Inheritance
by ougabouga
Summary: A continuation of the Cassandra Shepard saga. Taking place more than a hundred years after the events of Seeking Redemption, a new threat arises and Shepard's family must now also deal with the consequences of her actions.
1. Chapter 1

**Foreword**

Well. I said I wouldn't do this. But I'm back. Writing ME Fanfic. That line from Brokeback Mountain "I can't quit you" seems oddly apropos. I can't tear myself away from this universe. I guess it's all Bioware's fault. Really. Blame Bioware. I don't think anyone's ever blamed Bioware for anything.

This is a distant sequel to Seeking Redemption, taking place more than a century later. I'm going to be taking a different angle with this story. I usually write from a limited 3rd person perspective but I'm going to be expanding that to focus on more characters. We'll see how that works out. If you're unfamiliar with the earlier stories in this series it's strongly recommended you check them out. The first is The Darkness Has Been Breached ( s/9555742/1/The-Darkness-Has-Been-Breached) and the second Seeking Redemption ( s/9754004/1/Seeking-Redemption).

I'll try to keep to publishing one chapter a week. But as I'm officially dividing my daily writing time in half I'm not sure how realistic that is. Sometimes I make GRRM look like a Ferrari. This is probably good training for me, anyway!

I hope you don't mind me going back on my word. Never trust a writer! Please let me know what you think so far.

Enjoy :)

* * *

**Inheritance **

**Chapter 1**

* * *

She landed the shuttle on the shuttle pad roughly. There was a pronounced bump as it landed roughly on the concrete ground. She brusquely shut down all the systems, her fingers stabbing console keys as the engines and other systems whined plaintively to a halt. She threw herself out of the pilot's chair and bolted out of the shuttle. She landed on the ground, almost slamming her feet down. She breathed in and out, trying to calm and relax herself. It was a warm evening, the sun beginning to set. The small isle looked as empty as ever. The modest estate and plentiful plant life only seemed to increase the emptiness, as if a nearly empty manor and flora could compensate for what was truly missing.

Though she was an attractive figure that many of her own kind would be envious, she dressed modestly. She wore a dark blue uniform, boots shined to a mirror-like gloss, blue pants perfectly creased. The tunic was free of pockets and most useless adornments, the shoulders were marked with an emblem of a finely detailed golden raptor, it's wings spread wide on a light blue background. The forearms were marked with four pairs of wings, stacked one upon the other, finely stitched into the fabric. Several golden and silver pins lined her upper chest. She was young, in her second century of life. Her dark blue eyes shone in the reflection of the setting sun. Her head scalp was sculpted short, she disliked the more flamboyant styles that were the latest fashion. Her left cheek was marked by a deep scar, a gash two inches long that began just below her left eye. Medigel could've easily healed it, but she wouldn't allow it. She brought no luggage with her as she entered the elevator. As the doors slid closed a VI activated itself.

"Greetings Aisha T'soni-Shepard." It said, almost cheerfully. "Dr. T'soni is waiting for you in the northern foyer, second floor."

"Glyph, I'd prefer it if you called me by my preferred name." She said with thinly disguised annoyance.

"I cannot comply." The VI almost apologized. "Dr. T'soni insisted you be addressed by your proper name. This order cannot be overridden."

"Fine." Aisha sighed icily. Typical behaviour of her mother. The doors opened and she walked the familiar hallway to where her mother was waiting for her. Of course it was this of all foyers she was waiting in, forcing her to walk a hallway lined with mementos, commemorative plaques, memorabilia, holo-pictures of famous moments frozen in time. Confronting her with her heritage, a heritage that was more burden than blessing. She almost ran through the hallway, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Though she wasn't looking, she knew the precise placement of every item. When she'd been younger she loved to spend time here. She'd grown out of it, her sister hadn't. She heard her mother playing the piano. The piece was slow, sombre. She didn't recognize the piece but that was hardly new, she'd never cared for human classical much, or any music for that matter. The arts held no joy, mystery or interest for her. They were irrelevant distractions.

Liara T'soni sat at the piano, wearing a brightly coloured evening dress. She looked a century older than she was in actuality. Subtle lines and creases around her eyes, her chin evidenced this. She ceased playing when Aisha entered the room. She smiled modestly when she saw her daughter. Light seemed to flash into her lonely eyes for a moment. She stood up and welcomed her daughter, holding her arms in her hand. The room was littered with various mementos of her mother's music career, pictures of album covers, framed platinum records, a trophy case held dozens of trophies and plaques.

"I'm so happy to see you, Aisha." Her mother greeted her.

Aisha nodded slightly. "Nice to see you, too."

Liara waved her to a sofa. She sat upright, her hands folded in her lap. Liara sat there but Aisha sat in a mahogany chair, opposite her. Her hands tensely gripped the hand rests. Liara's smile faded from her face and then reappeared, awkwardly.

"Congratulations are in order." Liara said.

"Yes." Aisha forced a smile.

"It's what you wanted, what you've striven for." Liara said, forcing herself to smile. "Should we go out on the mainland and celebrate? The Loo-Loo is under new management and the food's much better now, according to reviews."

"No, that's...okay." Aisha said, shifting nervously in her chair. "I just thought I'd visit and spend the night before I go to the Citadel."

"Of course." Liara said, forcing a smile again, her eyes brightened again in anticipation. "Your bedroom's untouched. If you'd like in the morning I could make redberry pancakes?"

Aisha was about to refuse the offer. But seeing her mother, the way she desperately smiled made her reconsider. "Yes, I'd like that." The small smile that graced her lips was genuine. Liara's relief, and joy, was palpable. It wouldn't be the worst thing to acquiesce, her favourite childhood meal. Though her father was still the better cook.

"How did your release party go?" Aisha asked, desperate to keep some kind of conversation going, less they lapse into uncomfortable silence.

"It went well." Liara smiled, now more genuine. "I was given a standing ovation that lasted 10 minutes, and did four encores! The reviews are very positive. My agent wants me to go on tour again but the last one was so difficult I don't want to repeat the experience. Mirry introduced me to a krogan singer. It was kind of her but he was too dull."

"Where's Mirry?" Aisha asked perfunctorily. "I heard she got herself knocked up again?"

"Aisha! Don't be so condescending!" Liara scolded. She exhaled loudly before resuming, her voice straining to remain some semblance of calm. "She's doing a valuable service for our people. Just like you, she's doing her duty."

"By embracing eternity with everyone she meets in a bar." Aisha retorted derisively.

"You make it sound like she's a whore!" Liara objected. "We need to repopulate, all of her mates she's chosen wisely."

"Except for that one krogan, that human female, that volus merchant..." Aisha began listing her sister's questionable choice in bondmates. None of whom had stuck around for any length of time. Truth be told, Mirry wasn't very discriminating when it came to choosing her mates. Duty came first. She'd inherited that from her father for sure.

"Stop it!" Liara said, her voice rising, her hands curling into tight balls. "If you're going to denigrate your sister at least have to fortitude to say it to her face. I...I wonder why you're here! You're blessed to be a member of this family, yet you've shown nothing but derision for what you're a part of. Why do you even come here if you think nothing of your sister, less of me and Goddess knows what about your madre? You're a Shepard! That name carries great responsibility! If you're not willing to acknowledge it, then you should legally change your name, sell your shares and succeed on your own!"

Aisha snapped and stood upright. "I am succeeding on my own! I never once asked for any favours or for you to open doors for me, unlike Mirry." She spoke her sister's name as if it were a curse.

"Your name opened doors for you!" Liara pointed out. "Whether Cass or I did anything or not. You're fooling yourself if you think your achievements have nothing to do with you being a Shepard!"

"Fuck you!" Aisha stormed off, running out of the room. Biotic embers burned around her arms and she tried to process the anger, frustration. She ran straight for the elevator. The doors opened out onto the shuttle pad. The gentle breeze did nothing to tame her ire. Hurriedly she activated the shuttle's systems. As soon as the engines were on she activated take-off procedures, overriding a dozen safety protocols. The cold engines struggled to generate enough lift. The shuttle weaved and yawed dangerously. It's nose pitching dangerously downward. Aisha cursed, she wielded the controls like the reigns of an angry horse. She cursed again as she seemingly willed the reluctant shuttle into flight despite the loud protests of the laws of physics.

Aisha activated the auto-docking protocol. Her shuttle slowly guided itself into the gaping cargo bay of her frigate. It was salarian design, small, functional, stealthy, manoeuvrable. She'd made her own modifications. Thanix Mk.V cannons, overlord missiles, a mix of salarian and human defense systems, improved engines, a bigger core. She exited her shuttle as soon as it was safe to do so.

A distant voice chimed over the intercom. "This one is pleased at your return but worried as to its earliness."

"I'm fine." Aisha said, entering the elevator, heading for her quarters. "Let's just go to the Citadel."

"This one is pleased to inform you the estimated time of arrival will be 20 hours."

She paced in the cargo hold for several minutes. The cold floor clanging loudly with the sound of her angry footsteps. She hated feeling boxed-up like this, like there was something inside her that needed to explode out of her. She needed something to do, something to distract her from what she was feeling. She went to the forward batteries. There was always work to be done there, extra juice to be squeezed out of them. She set herself to work, re-calibrating cannons she'd already spent hundreds of hours calibrating. She'd only squeezed 0.01% efficiency out of them in the past six months, yet she persisted. What else could she do? Work kept her busy and there was only work. Everything else was just distraction.

After an hour of fruitless work she quit in a huff, cursing loudly and slamming the compartment doors behind her. She felt as frustrated and angry as before. There was only way to truly get some release. Her private quarters were located at the rear of the ship. Placing them near the top of the ship made it vulnerable in combat. Better to be secure than to have a view of the emptiness of space. Her quarters were small, functional. She had a bed with one single bed-side table. Her washroom was tiny, scarcely 6 feet in width or length. It was just big enough to accommodate a shower stall and a toilet. At least she got hot water. Her quarters had a small working area with a desk and computer console right next to the bed.

Her quarters were Spartan, she had no decorations or memorabilia. Her furnishings were modest, especially given who she was. But that was the whole point. Opening a drawer she retrieved a bottle of Thessian Rum and eagerly shugged the red-coloured liquor. So eager for its nectar was she that drops trickled down her face. The bottle was half empty before she tore the bottle from her lips. For some time she looked at the bottle, the surroundings of her small living quarters. She yelled a loud, wordless cry and threw the bottle at the closed door. The bottle shattered into hundreds of pieces, the liquid staining the door and pooling on the ground. In the dim light it resembled blood. _Fuck it!_ Alone in her quarters, she stewed in her thoughts. Anger and frustration as ever making her go beyond the boiling point. A maintenance drone activated and cleaned the mess. She looked at the glowing globe enviously. She lay in her bed but sleep never came to her, her thoughts most unwelcome bedroom company.

* * *

Liara sighed sadly, for several minutes she struggled to calm herself. She felt tired suddenly, even though it was still early evening. Fighting with Aisha always tired her. _I'll say goodnight to Cass._ She thought to herself. She stood and walked towards the inner cloister. She arrived to the cloister, she made her way to the centre where Cassandra was waiting. The outer line of the cloister was lined with vegetable plants and mini-orchards. It was appropriate that life was growing here. A small, brick laden path led to her. Liara sat down on the wooden bench, facing her . Cassandra was smiling. Liara knelt forward and touched the marble gravestone. _Cassandra Shepard. 2154-2298. Love._ The gravestone was cool to the touch. Frigid compared to what it had been to touch her in life. Resting on the gravestone was a holographic picture frame and a single red rose.

"I'm sorry, Cass." Liara began. "Aisha came by but we argued. Again. I know you'd be proud of her. I hope she comes around. It hurts to argue with her... " Her eyes moistened, she reached out and grabbed the picture frame. The picture was them smiling together from their camping trip of their honeymoon. It was one of their happiest times together.

"I miss you, my love. I miss you so much. Everything's so gray now that you're gone..." She wept for some time. The pain was still fresh and sharp. Time doesn't heal all wounds. Sometimes, it ripens them, lets them gain flavour and texture as they age like fine wine. "I know it's early but I'm going to bed now. I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight, my love."

Liara knelt forward and kissed the picture frame. Upon physical contact the picture changed, now showing Cassandra at the ceremony of the admission of the Batarian Confederacy to the Citadel. One of her last official acts before her retirement. She was older in that picture, several streaks of grey marring her dark black hair. Subtle lines around her eyes marked her age. The burden she'd carried since her youth was long gone but it was gradually replaced with other burdens.

Liara went to bed, slowly walking from the cloister to the master bedroom. She'd gotten used to the quiet emptiness of the manor. She'd long outgrown her shyness, but she was at heart an introvert, and the quiet freedom of solitude did much to assuage her. Even if the solitude was a double-edged blade. She missed having her children about. She would've loved to have cooked Aisha's favourite pancakes. The bedroom was vast and empty, like the house. She found herself squeezing a pillow, the closest thing she had to a partner. She cried herself to sleep, thinking of her daughter and her long-departed wife and bondmate. As always, she dreamed of Cassandra. And only of her.

She woke like she did every other day, with a dull sense of routine. She didn't linger in bed like she did before, when she and Cass would snuggle or chat or make love in the morning. Once she was awake there was no longer any reason to remain there. She dressed in a one-piece swimsuit and went to the cloister. The sun was peeking over the horizon, the birds were singing their morning songs. Life was beginning again for another day. She wished Cassandra a good morning. She kissed the picture frame. The picture changed to one showing her being granted Spectre status. At that same moment she'd trapped herself on Ferros. 36 hours later she met Cassandra, her life irrevocably changed. They were so young then, neither had even an inkling of what the next few months and years would bring.

* * *

She ran on the beach for four miles before she waded into the water. It was moderately cold and it took her a few minutes to accustom to it. She swam her lengths, counting them, measuring the distance using landmarks. The beachfront door of the estate and a felled tree. Fifty years ago a storm had knocked the tree down, tearing it from its roots. Rocks stopped it from falling into the sea and it still remained in place, leaning over, perched over the waters, unwilling to plunge into the sea. After completing her lengths she went inside to change.

As she changed Glyph pinged her. "Proximity Alert. A shuttle bearing the registry of your daughter Miranda is inbound. Scans confirm she is aboard. Shall I deactivate the barriers, security systems and grant access?"

"Yes." It was nice Mirry was coming to visit. She was kind and doting. After last night's argument some quiet time with her other daughter would do her well.

"Glyph, are the children with her?"

"Yes, Dr. T'soni."

Liara smiled. She knew how tired she would be in a few hours, but right now, she would be happy to spend the morning with her daughter and five grand-daughters.

She waited for them on the shuttle pad. The children came running out of the shuttle and hugged her. The youngest, 2 year old Karelia and five year old Kalavela hugged her legs. The trials of the previous evening were completely forgotten.

"Kids," Liara began, "How would you like to play some zero gravity tagball?"

The older kids, 16-year-old Navisha, 14-year-old Neroona and 10-year-old Cassandra didn't object in the least. They scampered inside, heading for the zero gravity gym. Her daughter Miranda emerged out of the shuttle with her asari companion Louisa. She'd given Miranda her madre's green eyes, just as striking as Cassandra's had been. Mirry was wearing a loose-fitting one-piece dress. From her neck hung a pendant in the shape of a baby cradled by an adult. The cult of Athane had undergone massive schisms and reforms in the aftermath of the Reaper War. The new church spoke of the duty of child-bearing to reclaim their rightful place at the head of galactic politics, lest they be overtaken by the krogans or humans. Any asari with less than three children was viewed as living in profligacy. The church reserved its harshest scorn for the young maidens who insisted in partaking the ancient habits of becoming a dancer and travelling the galaxy as mercenaries. Though many still lived in the decadent ways that had so dearly cost them, forgetting the harsh, nearly terminal lessons the Reapers had taught them.

Louisa was roughly her own age, with four daughters of her own, all school-aged. She and Mirry were a lovely couple, they'd been together almost ten years now. They sat on the beachside, they watched the toddlers build sandcastles. There were hardly any clouds in the sky and the sun was shining warmly. Louisa went swimming in lake, her swimming causing the only ripples in the calm waters.

"So," Mirry ventured, "Did you talk to Krugge?"

Liara rolled her eyes. "Yes. I don't mean to sound ungrateful but he was rather dull."

"He was shy! And a little bit intimidated!" Mirry defended her latest attempt to set her mother up with someone. "How many krogans go from being warlords to opera singers? I figured you two could make some sweet music together."

"Very funny, Mirry." Liara said. She didn't tell her daughter that she'd indeed met someone that night. Another asari named Isolda, they'd chatted only briefly but something about her had grabbed her attention. They hadn't spoken or seen each other since though Liara had often entertained the idea of contacting her.

Mirry chuckled. They were silent for some time, watching the children play and Louisa swim, before Mirry spoke again. Her voice was more serious, tender. Reflecting her concern.

"I just don't want you to be alone."

"That's why you're with Louisa." Liara said flatly. Her tone wasn't judgmental or reproachful. She would've given everything to have Cassandra live a few hundred more years. But science hadn't advanced quickly enough for her. Life as Councillor was far from stress free. But they were given on extension, it was better than none, better than having her daughters grow without knowing her madre. Bereavement wasn't easily overcome. She knew many mistook her daughter and her partner for a breeding couple when they went out with their kids. Being a pureblood herself, the odds that any of their offspring being Ardat-Yakshi were virtually guaranteed. A fact that was well-known to both of them.

"In part." Mirry admitted before returning to her intended subject. "She wouldn't want you to be alone either."

Liara tensed at the mention of her departed wife. "I know." She struggled to avoid tearing up. "I will partner with another. I just need to meet the right person. It just doesn't feel like the right time." Liara said unevenly.

"It's been almost 10 years, when do you ever try to meet people? When was the last time you went to a party?" Mirry asked pointedly.

"I went to the Assembly of Matriarchs social gathering two weeks ago." Liara said defensively, not liking the subject of this discussion at all.

"Please, that was business." Mirry countered.

"Then last week was my concert. The after-party." Liara added, still on the defensive.

"That hardly counts." Mirry said.

"My work keeps me busy." Liara said firmly. There was a cold silence between them.

"Right. Your work." Mirry said reproachfully. "How about the last time you had an actual date with someone?" Mirry ventured.

"We are not having this discussion!" Liara snapped, clenching her fists tightly. _Never. _She exhaled loudly and tried to soften her voice, looking away from her daughter she spoke again, though her voice was still far from casual and sincere. "I appreciate your concern but I'm doing fine."

"Okay." Her daughter replied flatly. "If you say so." Both knew this was far from the end of this subject. Stubbornness ran in the family, she would never stop until she found another bondmate. If she found another bondmate. _No one can compare to Cass._ Liara thought, her mind jumbled with irritation, frustration and grief.

"Your sister visited last night." Liara said, ever eager to change the subject. Though this subject was hardly more enjoyable than the previous one. It was the first thing that came to her mind.

"I'm guessing it went like it normally does?" Mirry said, her body was tense but her voice reflected some sadness.

"Yes." Liara said flatly. "We argued again..."

"She'll come around." Mirry said. "She's a good person, she needs to get her head straight. I think this will help her. "

"Aren't you coming, Mirry?" A voice from the water shouted. Mirry smiled warmly.

"Can you give me a reason to?" Mirry shouted back, teasing her partner. "It's really warm and comfortable here!"

"I can give you a few reasons." Louisa shouted back suggestively.

"Well, okay!" Mirry shouted back, she stood, discarded her over garments, revealing a two piece swimsuit and waded into the water. Liara smiled. She knelt forward and watched her granddaughters. Kalavela was building a sandcastle while her younger sister, in her incorrigible curiosity, as well as krogan genes, was damaging it. The older was admonishing the younger, but she was having none of it.

"Granny!" Kalavela whined. "Karelia's destroying my castle."

"Honey, she doesn't know any better." Liara explained but the youngster was unable to comprehend this.

She solved the problem by gathering Karelia in a biotic field and levitating her. The girl giggled hysterically. A giggling that only made her older sister jealous. So Liara danced her two granddaughters in the air. It was tiring but their joy and laughter brought warm to her, a regenerative effect even. They left a few hours later. She felt better though was relieved they were leaving. The kids were such a handful. It was a happy burden but a burden nonetheless. She was tired. She retreated to a living room and drifted off to a light sleep.

* * *

"Dr. T'soni?" Glyph interrupted her nap. She groggily rose out of the sofa. Her Omni-Tool told her she'd been napping for almost 2 hours.

"What it is, Glyph?" She asked her ubiquitous VI.

"You have an incoming priority 2 message from contact Verros."

Liara adjusted her communication protocols and then spoke into her Omni-Tool.

"This is the Shadow Broker. What do you have to report?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

* * *

Aisha awoke, the buzz of her alarm snapping her reluctantly into the waking world. Her head throbbed. It wasn't really the booze, half a bottle was just enough to get her tipsy. It was... everything. She hadn't asked to be a Shepard. She hadn't used that name since she was a child. Her official documents listed her as Aisha Lattinen. It still burned, the memory as fresh as it if it had happened yesterday. The first day of school, being introduced. Then 50 pairs of eyes snapping straight towards her, staring at her like she was a prized item in a curio shop. There was the hesitant way some of the teachers approached her, some refused to discipline her when she misbehaved or performed poorly. And the other kids. Some wanted to be her friend, not because of who she was, but because of her name. They took pictures being next to her and posted them online, as if this was proof their tiny lives amounted to something. She wasn't a person, she was a celebrity.

Others picked on her. So she picked back. Fights were common. In her third year she averaged three fights per week. She lost a few of them, but always ensured theirs was a Pyrrhic victory. There was a batarian orphan in her fifth year who hated her. It wasn't typical childhood dislike. No. It was real hatred, inherited like baldness or a crooked nose. His black, unreadable eyes dug into her like knives. He never spoke a word to her, even when they fought. And they fought a lot. Gradually, they stopped fighting. By fighting so much they learned about the other, it was almost intimate, like dating. And one day, instead of fighting, they played together and became friends.

In her adolescence she enlisted in cadets, it was the first time she'd used another name, Lattinen, her grandmother's middle name. It had served her well. It wasn't until her parents showed up for their annual parade that people realized who she was. The anonymity had been a godsend, if short-lived. She took well to the cadets, the discipline, the challenge, something to focus on. She graduated into the military proper and loved it even more. After twenty tears in the military she was accepted into the Bridgeburners Regiment, the Council's elite, multispecies task force. Joining put one on a long list to become a Spectre. She was the youngest asari in the Regiment's short history. The training lasted three years, three years that resembled thirty. Weeks without sleep, forced to do without biotics, exercises in remote locations. One of the training's novel touches was a human one known as a drill instructor, the chief overseer of their training. He was a human, Gunnery Sergeant Emery, though less than half her age, and several inches shorter, he was the most terrifying thing she'd ever encountered. That something more terrifying could exist somewhere in the universe was impossible.

She dressed herself in her formal dress blues. The creases were just right, her uniform totally free of lint. Her boots were shining to a deep gloss. A dozen shining pins lined like troops in parade atop her right breast pocket. Her shoulders emblazoned with the sigil of the Bridgeburners: Three white hands holding a white sword on a golden background. So many people she'd served with had taken the easy route of uniform care. Not her. She kept her uniform clean the old-fashioned way, with elbow grease. Just like her father had taught her. One of the few lessons she'd been receptive too.

She emerged onto the CIC, looking as smart as she could. The CIC was small, oval-shaped, a dozen feet at its widest, two dozen feet long. It was backlit in blue. Four crew stations were active but unmanned, their activities controlled by VIs. She hadn't met many she trusted enough to crew with and she liked having a small crew. Just shy of the cockpit a floating hanar stood, inputting some data in the nav-console. Behind him was her turian pilot. Both were fellow bridgeburners

She walked towards the cockpit. The hanar shifted colours languidly. Her ocular implants read his question.

"I'm fine, Skye. What's our ETA?"

"Just under a half hour." Her turian pilot Orkney relayed. "We exited the Sol relay a few minutes ago."

Skye flashed a few more colours.

"No, I'm not curious." She denied. The Sol system. Where the Reaper War had ended forever. The new home of the Citadel. The home system of the new ascendant race in the galaxy. How many museums and monuments were floating in this system? Each with their own unique illegitimate claim on an item from those dark days. This museum over there's built around a Reaper artifact that's nothing more than a station's generator emergency ejection conduit. That museum's collection of medals are nothing more than cheap forgeries. Her fists clenched and she felt the familiar tide of anger rising within her again.

She closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing to calm down. Her temper had always been her weakness. She remembered a mock combat engagement from training. She and her team were advancing on an entranced enemy, holding a bunker. She did everything right. Kept her troops moving from cover to cover, using smoke grenades and flash bangs, used diversionary tactics, but her troops kept getting picked off. So many of them were felled. She got angrier and angrier, seeing her troops being tagged one by one. Tired of jumping from foxhole to foxhole, she stood up and led a frontal charge, 20 meters from the bunker. She was tagged instantly, as were the rest of her team. Emery gave her hell. Her graduation had been pushed back six months for that one mistake. For letting her emotions get the better of her.

Her crew left the airlock and locked the ship behind them. They went in an elevator together, each getting off at different floors. Skye went in the direction of the hanar embassy. Orkney went to one of the gyms. She was in the mood for a drink. She had a few hours before the ceremony so she had to be careful. Citadel Newsnet was beaming into the car. The current story about another skirmish between the batarian confederacy and the "hegemony." The hegemony existed only in name, a tiny fraction of its former self. A dwindling nest of old extremists. They weren't long for the galaxy. The doors opened on her intended floor on the Presidium and she was greeted by a most unexpected sight.

A dozen reporters lining up, waiting for her. Immediately as the doors opened there was the click of pictures and video being recorded by floating drones. Spotlights shone on her, questions thrown her way like an artillery barrage. She ignored them and strode past them as quickly as she could without running. Her jaw clenched tightly shut. She rounded a corner, thinking she might lose them by heading to a nearby nightclub. Instead, as she turned she was greeted by a handful of C-Sec soldiers who quickly dispersed the media. Leading the officers was a familiar human face.

"Hey cuz!" A human female greeted her, spreading her arms. She wore a Commander's C-Sec uniform. She had long dark hair, hazelnut eyes , square face. She was an extremely striking and attractive figure, looking at least fifteen years younger than her true age of 60. Genetics did count for something.

"Cassie!" Aisha exclaimed, reaching forward and hugging her "cousin."

"Just because you're becoming a Spectre doesn't mean you can waltz around here and not have to say hello." The C-Sec officer teased. The hug broke and they walked towards O'Flannagan's, Cassie's favourite pub on the Citadel. As they did, they walked brusquely past the Presidium Lake, passing two things Aisha forced herself to ignore. In the middle of the lake, on a small island, not far from the restored Korgan Monument, stood the Normandy SR-2, not a copy, but the actual Normandy, forever on display, mounted on a pedestal. A small concrete path led to the ship, the path was lined with the names of the countless dead and missing of the Reaper War. At the base of the pedestal was a silver plaque listing the names of all who'd served aboard it. One name towered above the rest: Admiral Cassandra Shepard.

The other sight Aisha ignored was a temple belonging to The Flock, a religious cult that took inspiration from her father's life and actions. They preached togetherness, acceptance, selflessness and honour. Membership was open to every species, even a few batarians had signed on. Their holy book was her father's autobiography. They were usually harmless, they kept to themselves and weren't overly preachy, but Aisha was thoroughly disturbed by their existence and significant numbers. She wasn't sure why. Their grandest temple was on Mindoir, a fact Aisha found unambiguously perverse.

"Sorry, I thought you were on leave." Aisha explained. "I missed you." She added sincerely.

"Me too. I was on leave, until we had another riot in the slums." Cassie said.

"What were they protesting about this time?" Aisha asked.

"The usual, better pay, hours, benefits." Cassie sighed. "God knows they deserve it, they keep this station running."

"Was it bad?" Aisha asked.

" No one died this time, thank God. Just a lot of property damage and broken bones."

"Well, if the CCC execs can give themselves million-credit bonuses at the end of every year, they can afford it." Aisha said.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you hand over a no-tender contract for a hundred years. Madre never would've allowed that to happen." Cassie replied with a mix of anger and sadness. They were about to enter the pub when Cassie's Omni-Tool buzzed.

"Lawson. Go." Cassie said robotically into the communicator.

"This is Sergeant Berglund." A female voice buzzed. "Ambassador Tolar wants another escort to the Consort's offices."

"So what else is new? Why are you bothering me with this?" Cassie asked, showing some annoyance.

"She wants a full platoon." The beleaguered sergeant explained.

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Fine. Tell her this one time only. We've got better things to do than to ferry princess to and fro so she can get her rocks off. Lawson out."

"That the Volus?" Aisha asked.

Cassie nodded. "Come on, I owe you a drink."

The bar was one of the higher-class ones. The walls and floors were smooth and clean. It had a rustic feel, with real mahogany wood, antique books scattered on various bookshelves, walls littered with various posters and pictures that evoked a time long past. It served proper ale in casks with old-fashioned hand pumps, the food was cooked using similarly ancient equipment. It was rather full and customers were from every spacing faring race. A couple quarians, walking freely without face masks, were eating one of the pub's many dextro-protein meals.

"So, congrats are very much in order!" Cassie exclaimed. "Another Shepard becomes a Spectre. Madre would be proud."

Aisha cringed slightly. Cassie saw the look and was a little disappointed. "How come you're still hung on about that?"

Aisha looked away. Cassie resumed. "Look, I'm just the daughter of a family friend but I'm damn proud to be named after her. I've done pretty well for myself. Sure, madre and mom opened doors for me, but I had to walk through them and work my ass off to make sure I didn't get thrown out. You've gone even farther than me, and you begged them not to do anything."

"Yeah, but, it's different. Being her daughter." Aisha said as a waitress arrived with their drinks. Everyone treats me differently once they find out my last name. Everyone expects me to be perfect."

"She was the most famous person in the galaxy. It's natural people expect something from you." Cassie said. "Besides, you're doing very well."

"Everyone excepts me to save the galaxy or some shit, to be perfect or to have some amazing deep insight. I'm just a regular girl. I don't want the attention, I don't like it." Aisha said, taking a swill from her Scotch.

"Then why did you join the military?" Cassie asked. Mirry had gone for a quieter life and didn't have such difficulties.

"What else was I going to do? I'm not made for being a civy and I sure as shit wasn't going to whore myself out." Aisha explained, swigging some more Scotch. "Anyway," Aisha was eager for a change of subject and Cassie was happy to oblige. "What's your family up to these days?"

"Well, the hubbie's just signed a retirement contract. He's got five more years full time teaching before he goes part-time for five more years and then retires. Jason's got a new girlfriend, human this time, he just opened up a clinic on Omega. I wonder where he got that idea from? Neru signed up for an exchange with the Quarian admiralty. That's pretty much it. How about you?"

"What do you mean?" Aisha frowned. There wasn't anything more to discuss. She was becoming a Spectre, and no doubt in a few hours would be tasked with a mission. There was nothing else.

"What do you do with your time off? You still put models together? You find yourself someone special?"

"No." Aisha shook her head.

Cassie sighed and looked upon her with concern. "You need to make room for other things."

"There's only work. There's always one more job to do." Aisha replied firmly, a slight tremor in her voice. This was the second uncomfortable conversation she'd had in the past 20 hours and she was enjoying this one even less. She sipped more Scotch.

"There's nothing wrong with being a workaholic, but the job won't save you." Cassie said, leaning forward. "You know what a life is? It's what goes by while you wait for moments that never come."

Aisha said nothing but almost imperceptibly shook her head. Who was she to give life advice? To her? She was almost double her age, and yet the middle-aged human was the once giving advice. It didn't work that way.

"I'm just a maiden." Aisha said defensively. "I'll settle down eventually. I have lots of time."

"Aisha, you need to-"

"Don't tell me what I need to do." Aisha said coldly, cutting off her cousin. Aisha crossed her arms, staring darkly at her cousin. Cassie didn't look apologetic in the least. _Typical, always being a busybody._

Cassie's Omni-Tool buzzed. She gave an annoyed look to her device when she answered. "Lawson. Go."

"Ma'am, this is Lt. Caerphilly. We have a code orange in Athena's Den."

"I'm on my way." Cassie stood up. "I'm sorry, I gotta go. Duty calls."

"Fine. Go." Aisha said coldly. A pained look passed through Cassie's face for a moment, and then she turned and left. Aisha hailed the waitress and ordered more drinks.

* * *

She was only moderately tipsy. One drink had become two, then three then ten. She had the good sense to stop at ten. She hoped the Councillors couldn't tell. She was standing before them in the Council chambers on the Presidium. They stood high above her. The chambers were empty except for the five of them and scattered C-Sec guards. The Presidium was largely unchanged, it having been restored to its pre-war layout with only minor alterations. It was still impressive, awe-inspiring. The Councillors looked down upon her. Like the Gods of Olympus looking down upon mere mortals, tools of their ineffable will. Irissa stood for the Asari, dalatrass Lectron stood for the salarians, Mull for the turians and Rosenberg for the humans.

"Operative Shepard, it is a pleasure to finally meet you." Irissa began. Aisha's clenched her fists at the mention of the name. _That_ name. "I greatly enjoyed working with your father. She is sorely missed all who knew her, the galaxy is lesser without her wisdom. Even from afar I see you have her determination, her strength. Know that this honour is bestowed upon you for merit. Spectre status isn't granted lightly by this council. It is not inherited. You are the youngest asar to graduate into the Bridgeburners Regiment, your actions during the Krogan Revolt speak for themselves. It has been deemed that you are worthy of joining the Special Reconnaissance and Tactics branch of the Citadel. Do you accept?"

"I do." Aisha said firmly, proudly.

"It is the decision of this Council," Lectorn began, "that you be granted all the powers and privileges of the Special Reconnaissance and Tactics branch of the Citadel. "

Rosenberg picked up the trail. "Spectres aren't trained but chosen, individuals forged in the fire of service and battle, those whose actions elevate them above the rank and file."

"Spectres are an ideal, a symbol." Mull continued, "The embodiment of courage, dedication, and self-reliance. They are the right hand of the council, instruments of our will."

"Spectres bear a great burden." Irissa concluded. "They are protectors of galactic peace, both our first and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold."

A camera drone snapped a picture as she stood proudly, listening to their accolades. Her chest swelled with pride. She felt taller, stronger, nobler. She fought off a single tear that was welling in her eye. She'd done it! A Spectre!

"Are you prepared for your first assignment?" Irissa asked.

"I am." Aisha answered eagerly.

The councillors looked amongst themselves and nodded. Rosenberg pressed a few keys on his computer console. The lights dimmed. Aisha's Omni-Tool buzzed and she activated it, receiving the feed from the councillors' computer consoles. A vid began playing, security footage. It showed civilians being gunned down, attacked by mercenaries wearing Wolf Pack uniforms. It lasted only for a few seconds before cutting suddenly to black

"This is footage from the terraforming facility at Despoina, in the Sigurd's Cradle system." Rosenberg began. The name of the system and planet triggered Aisha's memories. _Where father fought the Leviathans. _"It is a small terra-forming operation, minimal security staff owing to its remote location and covert nature. We lost contact approximately 50 hours ago, this security footage was sent as an attachment to the SOS signal. We've had no communication since. You will rendezvous with an Alliance infiltration team. You will secure the facility by any means available and present your report to this Council."

"This terra-forming operation is top-secret." Rosenberg stated. "The jumpgate is closed to unauthorized transit. The Alliance is conducting its own investigation, but you must conduct your own. To find the source of the intelligence leak and take appropriate action. Given what happened there over a hundred years ago, we cannot rule out involvement of unknown alien species."

"The relevant data has been uploaded to your Omni-Tool." Irissa resumed. "As a Spectre you have wide discretionary powers. Use them wisely. Do you have further questions?"

"No. I'm ready." Aisha turned around and left the chambers, determination in her stride.

"Good luck and may the Goddess protect you from harm, in all the dark places you must walk." Irissa said solemnly.

* * *

Liara didn't try to stop the tears flowing from her eyes. She was in the cloister, her Omni-Tool projecting the image. She angled herself so Cassandra's tomb was facing the screen, as if she were actually there , watching a vid together. _It's so silly...but I can't help it._

Watching her eldest daughter go through confirmation of her Spectre status. She tapped into the Citadel's security feed. Spectre ceremonies weren't broadcast as a matter of course. Cass' had been an exception, being the first human. _She'd be so proud! I'm so proud! _It was mid-day and the sun was shining brightly, almost oppressively. And then, she went from pride to worry. She knew all about Despoina, she'd learned about it not long after the Alliance had. She fought hard the temptation to use her contacts to help her daughter. But she didn't. Aisha wouldn't accept her help. She was stubborn, she'd rather die than ask for help. She knew her daughter could handle herself but parenthood makes one forever anxious about the safety of your offspring. Perhaps she shouldn't aid her directly, maybe indirectly. Yes, she'd help her that way.

She sighed as she shut off the projection. Looking at Cassandra's tomb. The holo-picture frame showed a picture of her, Cass and Miranda smiling brightly, their faces pressed closed together, on holiday. It was to celebrate Maelon's curing Miranda's infertility. Maybe Mirry was right. Maybe it was time. Time to...make new friends. Most of her old friends were dead. Grunt was still around, but they shared little in common and spoke little.

She got up and walked inside, with her Omni-Tool she searched for local clubs where they could go. There were a few places on the mainland, only a few minutes flight time. Yes, she'd go... but...not tonight. She had to catch up with her data feeds, she had to keep tabs on Aisha, she still had to make up for lost time for the previous day's entertaining. _Tomorrow. _She thought to herself. _Sure, I'll call Isolda tomorrow._

* * *

Thanks again for reading. I will explain in due course various backstory elements. I'm trying to do it organically, without resorting to a mountain of info-dumping. Was this chapter too heavy on that front? Please let me know.

I have written a chapter about Cass' death, it's actually what got me writing this story. I haven't found a logical place to put it, but I have a feeling it will end up as an epilogue.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

"Okay, we've waited long enough. Make the jump." Aisha ordered, her voice not masking the frustration she felt. They were to rendezvous with the Alliance team here in the Psi-Tophet system. They'd waited 20 hours with no word or sighting of them. She'd had enough. If they couldn't be bothered to show up on time, she couldn't be bothered to wait for them. Beneath her impatience was an underlying fear that the reason for the Alliance team's delay was something sinister.

The Alliance had placed a stake in Despoina immediately after her father's battle with the Leviathans. Interplanetary Construction Inc. was awarded a contract to make the planet habitable. No planet outside the asari homeworlds had ever been found with such high traces of element zero in the atmosphere, the effect of her father crashing the Geth dreadnought. The company was estimating another 20 years before the planet was sustainable and habitable. The atmosphere was barely breathable, the ground couldn't grow anything. Whoever had taken out the colony had a strong interest in developing biotics. Were the Wolf Pack working on their own initiative or had they been hired? And how did they find out about the operation? Everything surrounding the Leviathans and the Despoina Incident were top-secret. That was one of the many questions she'd have to answer.

Aisha went to the armoury while the ship was in FTL. She fiddled with her advanced Mattock assault rifle. It was the perfect fusion of old and new. No longer needing heat sink clips and with hyper efficient cooling materials, it could lay down a barrage for a full minute before needing to cool down. Of course, the recoil increased with continuous fire. Her armour was the latest from Elkoss Combine, medium armour that was flexible but protected just as well as heavy armour, with enhanced kinetic barriers with tech armour for backup. It could sustain a lot of hits.

Orkney joined her in the armoury. The turian was young, only in his 30s. His left mandible was a prosthetic, having been torn off in an unfortunate incident on Illium with Red Sand dealers. His face was besotted with light blue, circular tattoos that marked his clan. They greeted another with a curt nod. He wasn't very talkative, another reason she liked having him as her crew. She could tell from the look in his keen red-grey eyes that he was eager for the mission. He retrieved a Scorpion sniper rifle from his weapons locker and caressed it lovingly. Aisha then excused herself, letting him change into his armour in privacy.

"Beginning a scan of the system." Orkney said as the ship emerged from FTL space. She and Skye were hovering near the cockpit.

"Picking up a lot of debris in orbit around Despoina. From the dispersal pattern looks very recent. It's probably an Alliance frigate." He relayed. Aisha's heart dropped with dread. The Alliance team were dead. Had she not dithered they might be alive.

"Engage stealth systems." Aisha ordered sharply. "Give me more details on the debris."

"Stealth Systems active." Orkney's fingers danced musically over various consoles.

"This one is detecting a black box signal." Skye said, relaying the ladar data.

"Hone in on the black box. Bring it into the shuttle bay." Aisha ordered. Orkney manoeuvred the ship to bring the black box into the cargo hold. Skye continued to take readings. She didn't need her ocular implants to know he was disturbed by what he saw. Whatever destroyed the frigate may still be lurking somewhere in the darkness.

She and Skye went to the cargo hold. The black box was in the centre of the cargo hold along with some other pieces of charred debris. The black box was actually orange, rectangular, it was the size of a shoebox. Aisha stood over it and activated her Omni-Tool. The interface took a few seconds to get running. The first thing to show was the ship's registry. It was Alliance. Normandy-Class frigate. SR-15, the Bayeux.

"Last recording is from 16 hours ago." Aisha remarked with concern. "This just happened." She wound the recorder to 30 minutes before shutdown. The data showed the flight proceeding normally. The cockpit recorded picked up a conversation mid stream between a male and female.

"...think the captain should've waited for the Spectre." The female began, mid conversation.

"You're stretching, Sal. Everything will be fine. It's just some civy forgot how to boot up a backup generator."

"Still wonder why there's a terraforming op way out here. The planet's a rock and there's dick all out here."

"Build it and they will come..."

Aisha fast forwarded 28 minutes. The sounds now were much more chaotic. Combat alarms, ladar pings, weapons firing, yelling voices.

"What the fuck is that thing?" A voice shouted. There was a loud rumble as the ship was hit with a massive warp field.

"Evasive manoeuvres!" A small explosion within the ship sounded.

"We can't take much more of this. All hands abandon ship. All hands abandon-"

There was a sudden loud hiss of feedback. Aisha shut off the cockpit recorder. The readings hinted the cockpit itself was blown away. She downloaded the ladar logs. The ladar showed a massive ship, it's configuration unknown. The ship was insecticidal in shape, an oval mid-section hundreds of meters across with dozens of tentacles stretching outward. The ship was large yet nimble and manoeuvrable, it had no visible weapon ports or engine exhaust. The only thing recognizable about it was the subtle blue glow of dark energy that enveloped it. It wasn't shaped like any of the Reapers she'd seen in vids. It was different. New. Or perhaps inestimably ancient. Blasts of dark energy emitted forth from the tentacles, breaking down the Alliance ship's hull and barriers. They hadn't found any escape pods, meaning this mysterious attacker had destroyed them as well. Ruthlessness was evidently one trait this alien species possessed.

"Orkney," She messaged her pilot. "Take us in. Land us near the terraforming processor. Then meet us in the cargo hold."

The cargo hold whined loudly with the howling wind outside, it almost sounded like the ship was surrounded by wolves. She refastened her combat helmet over her head and pulled the faceplate down. Oxygen began quietly pumping in her suit. Her HUD gave her oxygen supply at 100%. Her HUD gave her displays on atmospheric conditions, targeting info and several vision modes, infra-red, nightvision, ultraviolet. She held her assault rifle at the ready.

Skye was hovering behind her. Two of his tentacles were holding weapons, one was holding a Scorpion pistol and the other a Locust SMG. The Scorpion pistol was the same kind pioneered by the STG, with explosive rounds. These slugs were equipped with active targeting, they could hone in on a moving target, making it handy against drones and vehicles. These slugs turned an average marksman into a deadly sniper.

When she first met Skye years ago in basic training, she couldn't believe a hanar would be handy in combat. She quickly had her prejudices dashed. He was fast moving, surprisingly agile. His long tentacles gave him advantages in close quarter combat situations. The sting from them was very potent, equally able to incapacitate or kill with only a thought to distinguish between them. On their homeworld the hanar were predators, and it showed. Hoisted on his back was a reinforced levitation pack, it held not only kinetic barries but also shielding to keep his skin hydrated. He was vulnerable on desert habitats but he'd managed. Part of his survival training had been to endure a week on a desert moon with only enough power to moisturize himself for two days. He survived with power supplies to spare. He'd kept to dwelling in caves and rigging dozens of moisture traps. Skye was his face name. She didn't know his soul name and hoped that one day he would share it with them.

Orkney appeared from the elevator. His rifle was slung over his back, he'd finished securing his face helmet. He stepped out and nodded to her. She nodded back. They exited by way of a passenger door, not the main ramp door. They were in the midst of a modest sand storm and they couldn't risk the cargo hold being sandblasted. The reactor was only 25 meters away. It was massive complex that spanned several dozen miles. Several towering spires were placed every hundred meters. These towers were cylindrical, reaching into the sky for two miles, funnelling the necessary materials and compounds to terraform this planet. The temperature read 50 degrees Celsius, low humidity and the sun was oppressively bearing down upon them. Aisha felt like the sun was an impatient titan, waiting only for his boredom to resume to smite them down.

They hurriedly trotted towards the facility, Aisha's HUD guiding her towards the main airlock, the blowing sand almost throwing her sideways. Within ten meters they found an assault shuttle. It was marked with the crimson insignia of the Wolf Pack, the face of a lupine, bearing its angry teeth on a golden circle. They approached the shuttle cautiously, their weapons drawn. Aisha's HUD detected no energy readings or life signs from the shuttle. She hugged the fuselage and pivoted at the ship's stern, pointing her rifle at the open door. The inside was empty save for gathering sand.

Cautiously Aisha climbed inside. Assault shuttles were short ranged craft, they weren't designed for long haul voyages, they were too small, barely bigger than normal shuttles. It took no more than a dozen feet for Aisha to travel from the cargo hold to the cockpit. She activated her Omni-Tool and downloaded their logs. They were encrypted, deciphering them would wait for later. There was nothing else of interest, the lockers were empty, the fridge had two days of emergency rations. She scampered out and the three of them closed the distance to the nearest airlock dock. The panel next to the airlock was destroyed, the doors were open, blast marks marking them.

"Looks like the Wolf Pack blew these doors open." Orkney remarked. Aisha nodded.

"This facility has 12 other airlocks, they probably did the same thing there." Aisha added as they walked inside, her at the lead.

The facility was completely dark. Aisha activated her night vision. The first corridor was small, narrow, leading to another set of doors on the right, next to a security station. She turned the corner and was greeted with the sight of a dead body on the ground. It was a human male, holding a pathetic taser pistol in his cold, dead hand. He wore a dark blue uniform, against the force the mercs would've employed he might as well have fought with sticks and stones. His face was frozen with his mouth agape, his blood stained face marking surprise, shock. His chest bore another massive mark, a red circle several inches in diameter.

"Looks like concussive rounds." Orkney remarked. "Wolf Pack wasn't messing around. This is overkill even by their standards. The poor bastards here didn't stand a chance. They could've held them for hostages, instead they slaughtered them. Honourless bastards!" Orkney spat. Aisha shared his anger. The people who worked here were innocent.

"Question is, what happened to the power?" Aisha asked.

"This one postulates that perhaps those known as Wolf Pack are active, and have set an ambuscade." Skye's flashing bioluminescence temporarily blinded her for a few seconds.

"Stay frosty." Aisha whispered as they walked past the dead security officer. From here the corridor opened out onto a T-junction. Thankfully signs were posted. Straight ahead lead to living area, to the right led to the base's reactor, to the left led to the atmospheric processors. They found three more dead bodies, two salarians and an asari. All were civilians. The asari was lying face down, on the ground her blood fused with coffee from a shattered cup.

"Let's go to the reactor, find out what happened to the power." She said, taking the lead once again. There were bodies everywhere she looked. The indiscriminate slaughter was appalling. She only saw civilians. Some were leaning against walls, others were lying behind sundry equipment, killed in a vain attempt to find shelter. A janitor's closet was open, a salarian was lying dead, his body crumpled in a heap, his head draped into a bucket filled with blood and putrid water.

The hallway continued straight for twenty meters before it hung a left. There they found another dead body, only this one was wearing Wolf Pack armour. He was on his back, his assault rifle on the ground several feet away. There was a massive hole in his chest plate, several inches in diameter. The edges of the crater around his chest were black and marked by some kind of toxic substance. Aisha knelt over him and activated her Omni-Tool. The toxic substance was acid. The acid had melted the soldier's armour, and his flesh, only he wasn't killed by the acid. Scans show a massive puncture wound in the merc's chest, it had torn through his rib cage, collapsed his lungs and pierced his heart. She looked around and couldn't find anything that could do that kind of damage.

She felt her teammates' unease and worry. They knew as well as she not even an Omni-Blade could effect this kind of damage. And what, or who, used acid as a weapon? She couldn't think of anything, it certainly wasn't a thresher maw. Still, they had a mission to do. The speculation would come later. She stood and walked further into the complex, following the signs that led to the reactor. The further they went, the greater the mix of bodies became, they found more Wolf Pack bodies, all with massive puncture wounds and traces of acid upon them.

They came to a T-junction where an impromptu barricade had been set up, using everything from torn ducts to office furniture, the flotsam welded together into one unwieldy morass. It hadn't held. Behind the makeshift barricade were ten bodies, all Wolf Pack. The nearby walls were matted with strange indentations. When she scanned them, Aisha found these were acid stains, they all had wounds and holes indicating they'd been savagely impaled.

"These bastards deserve this. Massacre a station full of civilians, you get what's coming to you." Orkney remarked grimly. One thing she didn't understand, she knew her teammates shared this, was how they hadn't found any bodies of whatever had killed the Wolf Pack. It couldn't have been this one sided.

"Maybe whoever did this took their own dead with them rather than leave them here." Orkney theorized.

"Makes sense. " Aisha replied.

Not long past the fallen barricade was reactor core. It was a small eezo reactor. She walked up to the console and was puzzled. The reactor wasn't damaged or hadn't been tampered with. It had been merely turned off. Who had shut off the reactor? And Why?

It took only a few minutes for the reactor to reactive, lights turned on, climate systems rebooted and the computer system was back online. She quickly deactivated her night vision HUD. The atmosphere wasn't breathable, owing to the many breaches in the complex. She then interfaced with the security systems.

"Fuck!" She cursed, slamming her fists on the keypad. The security data had been wiped clean. It would've told them what had happened here.

"It's okay." Orkney said softly, trying to calm her. "There's still lots of ways to piece together what happened here. Let's scope out the rest of the facility."

They spent three hours investigating the rest of the facility. They found only debris and death. There were several places were civilians had tried to hide only to be massacred by the mercenaries. That the mercenaries had themselves been massacred was of no comfort. The facility had suffered moderate damage from all the fighting, but it would only take the company modest expenditures in time and financing to restore it to full capacity.

* * *

They went back to the ship, Skye retreated to his quarters, Orkney set the ship on auto pilot to jump back to the Sigurd's Cradle system and rested in his quarters. The ship's VI was working to decrypt the data from the assault shuttle, but it was heavily encrypted and it might take days for the VI to decrypt it, if it could at all. Much about the Wolf Pack was unknown, owing in part for their reliance on hyper-complex data encryption. Even quarians struggled with their encryption protocols. Aisha quickly wrote a report and mailed it to the Council. Within the hour she spoke with them directly.

"Operative Shepard," Irissa greeted her. Her small video screen showed representations of all Councillors. "Thank you for your report although it leaves us with some concerns."

"I must ask if you've omitted something from your report." The salarian councillor stated brusquely. Aisha frowned darkly.

"I omitted nothing." She answered, deeply offended.

"Then I must question the depths your knowledge. Your report details the mercenaries were attacked with a strange bio-acid, there is a known species known to exhibit this trait. As Rosenberg would say, you failed to connect the dots."

"What do you mean?" Aisha shot angrily. Already on her first mission they were questioning her competence. She'd show them. But she knew it wasn't undeserved.

"The Rachni. A species your father saved from extinction and aided in the construction of the Crucible." Irissa said evenly, though there was no doubting the undercurrent of dismayed disapproval.

"There is also the fact you procrastinated in the Sigurd's Cradle system for 20 hours before deciding to forge ahead." Rosenberg began, not masking his disappointment in the least. "The Bayeux and its crew might have been saved had you not loitered about like a tourist on a cruise. And we would know who this unknown attacker was."

Aisha fought the urge for her biotics to flare, the equivalent of blushing. Their comments struck her. She didn't know much about her father's tales. Her father didn't like to talk much about her past except in vague generalities. As she grew older she grew resentful of her association with the legend and so ignored large parts of her father's actions and legacy. But even she should know about the Rachnni. And Rosenberg was right, she'd dithered too long. Maybe she could've saved them.

"I see." She replied, feeling like the eyes of the councillors were boring into her, seeing through her facade.

"The Rachni disappeared immediately after the Reaper War." Irissa resumed. "They have not reinitiated contact with us and are in hiding, somewhere. We believe they reside somewhere beyond the Mu relay. Seldom do ships re-emerge from that system. We will conduct further analysis but on first glance it is difficult to ascertain what would motivate the Rachni to attack such a remote site."

"What is your next step?" Rosenberg asked.

"We will journey to Omega." Aisha answered. "We need to discover why the Wolf Pack attacked this planet. Aria T'loak may be willing to allow me to contact them."

"That is wise." Irissa said. "She may be more willing to bargain with you given who are. You may also infer that we are willing to relax certain restrictions in exchange for her cooperation."

"I'll do what I can. Operative out." Aisha said and cut off the communication.

"Orkney," She paged her pilot. "Set the auto-pilot to take us to Omega."

* * *

Liara yawned, her fatigue suddenly dawning on her. She'd had a busy day, her network had buzzed more than usual. Only with Glyph's improvements was she able to keep up. It was too much for one person to handle but with Feron's assassination decades ago, she couldn't bring herself to trust anyone to bring them into the fold. Information brokering was a skilled and all too often amoral occupation. Thousands of variables factored in countless equations, yet none of those calculations factored in ethics.

The arguments had been terrible. Cass didn't want her to resume her duties. Neither had she, but she had no choice. They had to avenge Feron's murder, discover how his cover had been blown and they couldn't let all these precious resources go to waste, by inaction create a void that would be filled by someone darker and ruthless. Cass herself knew the reasons well, they weren't all that different from the ones on Hagalaz. But she'd fought against it nonetheless. It was Cass' protective side manifesting itself. But in the end, Cass had relented, as she knew she couldn't fight against. The tension took several months to ease between them.

She walked away from her computer consoles. She initiated the sleep protocols, Glyph would handle the low-grade requests. The higher ones would wait until she awoke tomorrow. Glyph would only awaken her for a priority one message. She would say goodnight to Cass before turning in.

"Doctor T'soni?" Glyph asked.

"Yes, Glyph." Liara answered drowsily.

"You've received a strange message to your personal email account."

"Very well, put it on." One last thing to do before going to bed. It was her personal account so it couldn't be all that important. A brief thought flashed through her mind that it might be from Isolda. Then she reminded herself that she'd resolved to call her today. Only she hadn't. _I'll call her tomorrow._ She opened the email.

_To: Doctor Liara T'soni  
From: Shaiy'eela Van Drusen_

_Dear Dr. T'soni, _

_I must meet with you urgently. I have an urgent message for you from an old friend you met on Noveria. _

_Please, we need to meet as soon as possible. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Omega had changed little over the years. It remained a hive of vice and iniquity. Skye decided to remain on board the ship, Orkney left the ship with her, though she granted him six hours of leave. As they left the docking bay she was greeted by two Krogan security guards wielding Claymore shotguns. Aisha gripped her sidearm, as did Orkney. One of the krogans held up his hand.

"Shepard?" He began. "Aria T'loak wants to see you. In the VIP of Afterlife."

"How did you know I was coming?" She asked, highly alarmed.

"Aria has her ways of knowing things. You're not as subtle as you think." The krogan said dismissively. He growled lightly at her. "You're lucky Aria has you listed as a VIP, otherwise I'd frag your blue ass right now."

Orkney raised his pistol and pointed it at the krogan. Within seconds everyone had their weapons raised and pointing at another. Everyone's eyes were like bullets. Fingers precipitously touching triggers.

"You murdered my clan leader." The lead krogan said darkly. "Our clan was going to succeed where clan Urdnot failed. Clan Wredlock was destined to return the krogan to glory, to avenge the genophage and lead the krogan to unmatched glory and conquest."

"I did what I had to do." Aisha said coldly.

"Whenever some species drag us down, it's always someone doing what they had to do. Us returning the favour, is just doing what we have to do!" The krogan thundered. His communicator buzzed. An angry female voice shot forth from it.

"Driploar, what the fuck are you doing? Stand down the fuck now! I told you she's VIP. You so much as give her a dirty look I will space you and all your miserable fucking children. Understand!?"

"Yes, mistress." Wredlock Driploar said chastened. He and his krogan compatriot sheathed their shotguns. Aisha and Orkney holstered their pistols. The krogans walked away reluctantly, growling and snarling all the way. Aisha had a feeling she'd see them again.

"Sometimes I wonder if curing the genophage was the right thing to do." Aisha said quietly. Orkney said nothing, but his mandibles twitched uncomfortably. Like all turians his feelings on this matter were complicated. The krogans had been troublesome since the end of the Reaper War. Urdnot Wrex had kept them in line until his assassination. That ignited a massive civil war that threatened to spill out beyond their borders. Once again, the Council intervened. Thankfully this intervention was less drastic than the last. The Bridgeburners and were sent to the korgan worlds, waging a surgical war against the opposing clans. Assassinating clan leaders, destroying arms caches, poisoning food supplies. It was dirty work, but it had to be done. They had to help the allied clans without repeating the mistakes of the past. An uneasy peace had held since then.

"Thanks, Orkney." She said. "I'll go meet Aria. Meet you here in six hours."

They parted. Orkney went towards the markets, he'd be happier than a clown shopping for various weapons, mods and ammo types. By letting him loose in such a place she ran the risk of having him run late, but he was allowed to have fun.

* * *

Aisha made her way towards Afterlife. There was a long lineup waiting to get in. At the head of a line was a young human male. He was agitated, begging to be let in, claiming he was on the guest list. The elcor bouncer was having none of it. Above the entrance a human skull was mounted on the wall, legend had it that it was General Petrovsky's. Aisha sighed when she came to the club. It was loud, pulsating with music. On various pedestals throughout the club asari dancers plying their trade. _We came within a hair of extinction, and these dumb whores just go back to the old ways._

It took her a few moments to discern where the VIP area was, she'd never been here before. She wound up the stairs. A human male guard nodded to her and pointed at her sidearm. She surrendered it to him, he scanned her and he waved her further up. Aria was sitting on her throne, a luxurious sofa, overlooking the club. Only three body guards stood nearby. Aria was sitting with her arms spread wide, resting on the sofa, she looked like a bird of prey, her smile might as well been accented by fangs. Aisha wasn't sure what to think about that. Aria softly patted the sofa with her hand right next to her. Aisha cautiously sat down, sitting further away than Aria wanted. They were a study of contrasts. Aisha was tense, sitting straight up and Aria was relaxed.

"Aisha Shepard. I've long been curious about meeting you." Aria said her name like she was savouring a dessert, her dark eyes observed her keenly, drinking in every detail, from the obvious to the subtle, divining an accurate sketch. One didn't survive as a warlord for several centuries without knowing how to judge people.

"Can't say the feeling's mutual." Aisha shot back.

Aria chuckled. "A bit of a chip on your shoulder, eh? I guess that's to be expected."

Aisha glared at her. Aria's eyes betrayed bemusement and also some curiosity. There was more than a hint of her father in those eyes. She wasn't as good looking as either of her parents, but she was still an attractive figure on her own. Aria wondered just how much of her father Aisha had inherited.

"Shall we get to business?" Aisha interjected.

"You're no fun." Aria answered in mock complaint.

"I've had a bit of encounter with the Wolf Pack. I need to...speak to them." Aisha said, choosing her words carefully.

Aria laughed for a few seconds, then humour left her voice and eyes, staring darkly at the young Spectre. "You Shepards talk with bullets. Normally, I'd tell you to go fuck yourself but I got a nasty call from the Shadow Broker. We had an...interesting discussion. Looks like I'm going to have to help you. Don't make too much of a mess, they're the only decent merc group around these days and the only thing that keeps the Council from fucking my ass with an Omni-Blade."

"No promises." Aisha said darkly, fighting to maintain a stoic facade. _Mother, can't you leave me alone?_ This was precisely what she didn't want, didn't need. _Damn you, mother! _

Aria chuckled, reading her like an open book. "My, you do have a chip on your shoulder. Forever living in mommy and daddy's shadows. And what large shadows they cast." Aria emphasized the word 'shadows' each time, like an actor hamming it up on the stage. Aria smiled slyly as Aisha stared darkly at her.

"Yes, I know who mommy is. If you know the right info, it isn't hard to work it out. She's got a great cover, not too many would suspect her." Aria said with a hint of menace.

"Give me my information!" Aisha demanded, very eager to leave this place. She wasn't going to let Aria play her.

"And they say the turians have a stick up their ass." Aria seemed disappointed, like a child hose toy had been taken away. Aria glared at her as she activated her Omni-Tool. "I'm sending you a special frequency to contact them."

"I need to meet in person." Aisha insisted.

Aria laughed dismissively. "They're not stupid. They remember what happens when Shepards have run-ins with mercs. They'll speak to you over a secure frequency. Nothing more. I wouldn't expect much from them. They're not very talkative."

"Who's they?" Aisha asked pointedly.

"I suppose I should tell you. Wolf Pack's run by two brothers, Romulus and Remus. I don't know much more than that. They use third parties a lot. A word of warning: You try to get nasty with them, they will fuck you up and I will eat you up, shit you out and grout my fucking bathroom with you." She threatened, every word of that threat was spoken slowly, with extra emphasis, as if the threat were a fine meal. Aisha saw her words were exaggerated, her threats were hollow and exaggerated. Aria would not risk going to war with the Shadow Broker. Although if her main protection was removed, she might act as if she had nothing to lose.

Aisha thanked her curtly and left, almost forgetting to retake her sidearm. She sighed with relief exiting afterlife, leaving the loud music behind and the oppressive aura of Aria's presence. The annoying human was still trying to talk his way into the club, and the elcor was getting annoyed. Aisha had to blow off some steam but she wasn't in the mood for drink. She downloaded a map of Omega onto her Omni-Tool and searched for a few minutes before she found what she was looking for.

* * *

She took a skycab to the lower reaches of Omega. The cabbie accelerated into and out of the area. She'd have to find her own way back but that was fine. The area was marked by litter filled streets, buildings covered with graffiti, broken windows. Some homes had walls that looked ready to collapse onto themselves. Everyone she saw bore a face of misery, vagrants, drug addicts, petty criminals, homeless. She kept an alert, but sympathetic eye. These were the downtrodden, the lowest of the low. They all wore ill-fitting, decaying clothes. She saw two human children, no older than 10, using needles on the other. Destitution makes one desperate. This was the perfect place to be mugged, or worse. On Omega that was saying something.

The fight club was housed in a dingy, orange-yellow building. Fluorescent lights weren't all working, the walls were covered with various stains of unidentifiable substances. The place rank of sweat, blood and smoke. It was crowded, she had trouble wading through the crowd, howling with rabid, drunken cries, hungry for blood. Finally, she pushed herself to the forefront. Before the ring was a desk, a batarian bookie with two krogan bodyguards. In the ring were a vorcha and a krogan fighters and a human ref. Both were bloodied, the krogan had a fresh scar running down the front of his face, the vorcha had few visible wounds. Both were tired, hobbling as much as pacing, circling the other, snarling and growling.

The krogan charged. The vorcha was too tired and to avoid it. He was thrown violently on his back, the vorcha groaned loudly in pain. The krogan bent down and picked up the vorcha with both hands. The vorcha writhed and tried to escape but the krogan held on. The krogan turned, facing the crowd in that surrounded him. The crowd cheered with rabid bloodlust. The krogan roared in sync with the crowd. The crowd and the krogan were one. The krogan slammed the vorcha down on the mat. The vorcha's limp body bounced three times before resting permanently on the ground. The crowd exploded. The ref came over and counted to five. The limp vorcha remained on the ground, barely moving. The krogan triumphantly pumped his fists in the air.

The roar of the crowd died down, Aisha approached the bookie.

"I want in." Aisha said simply.

"No biotics allowed." The batarian bookie replied.

"Like I said, I want in." She said sternly.

The batarian nodded and grinned. "Alright little blue, you're in. Rules are simple. No biotics, no weapons, victor wins if the opponent's thrown out of the ring or is down for the count. If you win you get a 5% cut."

"I thought these places fought until death?" Aisha asked.

"Only on weekends." The batarian explained apologetically. "Can't have our fighters killing each other all the time."

Aisha approached the ring. The vorcha was being carted away, moaning in discomfort. She shed her overcoat, her Omni-Tool and her boots, placing them on a stool at the base of the mat. Not even bothering with boxing tape, she climbed into the ring. The crowd roared with anticipation. The human ref doubled as an emcee, in the centre of the ring he spoke through his Omni-Tool, the static-filled voice filtered through the cheap speakers in the fight club.

"And in this corner we have Little Blue, she's mysterious, she's blue and if you piss her off, she'll make sure you embrace eternity six feet under. Do we have a challenger?" He spoke, gesturing with his arms, trying to get the crowd into it. They didn't need much help in that direction, especially when a challenger soon arrived.

"I'll take that bitch on!" A loud voice thundered. Aisha recognized the voice immediately. It was Driploar. The krogan climbed into the ring, discarding his armour, weapons and Ombi-Tool, his sneering face emphasized his sharp, teeth. His teeth glistened, and it seemed he was salivating with anticipatory glee.

"And we have a challenger." The MC enthused. "Aria's favorite krogan bone smasher, Wredlock Driploar!" The emcee read a text message on his Omni-Tool. "Alright, everyone, get your bets in. Odds are 2-1 in favour of our krogan."

The two fighters paced in their corners while the crowd placed their bets. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, her heart beat faster with anticipation. She smiled at him, mocking him. She was in the mood for a fight, a real fight, and thank the Goddess, she was going to get one.

"You're dumber than you look." Aisha taunted.

"Aria doesn't care about accidents. Looks like you're about to have one." Driploar taunted back, smashing his fists together. He was lean, muscular. His plates bore little in the way of scarring, they were tinted a light shade of green. He was young, like she was. She stretched and flexed her muscles, bounced on the hard floor. Fighting krogan was tricky, you had to be agile and surgical. They had one vulnerable area, the frontal plate on the krogan's head. Though she didn't have a knife, enough hits would be enough to wound the krogan and perhaps get him to back down. Or incite him into a blood rage.

"The bets are in!" The emcee thundered to great applause and cheers. He walked to the centre of the mat. The two fighters approached the centre. His eyes staring malevolently at her, she stared right back.

"Three...Two...One...Fight!" The emcee said and hastily retreated, becoming now the referee.

Driploar immediately swung for her. She anticipated and ducked, easily avoiding his arm. He growled and she bounced away from him. He growled in frustration. He strode towards her again. She waited until he was within inches of her before she bounced away from him. As she moved she swung out her hand and landed a punch just above his right eye. The krogan groaned in rage and snapped his head towards her. He growled menacingly, his teeth shining like stars in the ring. The hit stung, though she hit his eye, she also got a fistful of his plate.

Rather than charging again, he circled her this time, his fists held high. She kept circling, ready for him to charge again. He was young and krogan, but clearly not a simple brute. As they circled he slowly closed the distance between them. Aisha didn't back away, knowing he was trying to back her into the ropes. She could smell his hot, smelly breath, it smelt like rancid milk.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Aisha taunted. "Come at me, you salarian bitch!"

The krogan snapped and lunged at her her. Aisha didn't bounce away, but stood her ground. She punched his frontal plate between the eyes. This stung him and stopped him in his tracks. She threw five more punches at the same area, each one connecting with a dull sounding thump. The hits stung him each time and he back pedalled. Aisha delivered a firm kick to his midsection. The hit knocked him over and he fell on his back.

Aisha didn't have much time to gloat. The krogan was back on his feet almost instantly, though looking less alert. His was breathing heavily and his eyes were slightly glazed over. He was nearing blood rage state. She kept herself poised and ready. A hard force hit her head from behind and she fell forward. The sound of something shattering. She barely braced herself before hitting the floor. The krogan charged and he kicked her head hard. Her head spun and she saw stars. She barely had time to register the latest blow before she felt like she was flying, some strange, strong force holding her aloft. She looked at the floor beyond the ring, at least 15 feet below. She scrambled as she realized the krogan was holding her in the air and it wouldn't take much for him to throw her over. She swung her arm and landed a solid punch on his frontal crest. It stung him and he let her go. Rather than let herself fall she used her biotics to cushion her fall and landed gracefully on her feet. The broken shards of glass and drops of her blood on the floor were proof the rules no longer applied.

Driploar roared and charged. She quickly trapped him in biotic field and lifted him high in the air. She raised him up to the ceiling, thirty feet in the air. His arms were flailing and he was shouting and yelling in panic. She could drop him and he would fall to his death but she kept him up the air for several seconds, she kept her eye on the crowd, in case another bottle, or worse, was about to come her way. The crowd was in dismay, their faces filled with frustration. The Ref/emcee stepped in front of her, waving his arms sideways.

"Fight's over!" He yelled at her. "Drop him down gently!" He made sure to emphasize the last word.

Aisha nodded. She'd had her fill. And she was also bleeding, she could use some medigel. Slowly she lowered the krogan, even courteously depositing him on his feet. He blared his teeth at her. She smiled mockingly at him. He took a step towards her but the emcee stepped in front of him and yelled at him.

"We're not done yet!" Driploar yelled at her. The emcee was joined on the mat by three armed guards, two vorcha and one batarian. They kept their sidearms pointed at him as they escorted him out of the club. Driploar kept glancing back and glaring at her.

Aisha laughed and mockingly twitched her knees. "I'm so scared." She left the ring and sat down. The batarian bookie walked up to her and applied medigel to her wounds. A warm, buzzing sensation flooded her senses as the wounds healed, the shards of glass were purged from her tissue. She wondered if he would be so nice to her if he knew who she was.

"Don't worry, we got the turd who threw that bottle at you. One of Driploar's little minnows. Sure you don't wanna go another round? You fight good, Blue."

Aisha shook her head.

"We gave them a refund so you should be safe to walk out of here." He explained.

The patrons were surprisingly happy. Some gave her thumbs up and showered her with praise. She sat back and relaxed. She felt calm, in a much better frame of mind. Two turians stepped up into the ring. She might as well enjoy herself. She still had a few more hours to kill. She bet on the taller turian and ordered herself a drink. Yes, that fight was just the tonic she needed.

* * *

Liara fiddled with her wedding ring and bonding bracelet as she sat on the cafe patio. There were a dozen others here, eating and drinking, unaware the legendary Shadow Broker was in their midst. She kept an alert eye, constantly scanning for threats. She'd ordered a tea to maintain the charade of being a customer. But the tea was cold and she hadn't even glanced at it. She always played with her wedding ring when she was nervous. She was waiting for Van Drusen to meet her here, not far from rebuilt temple of Athame.

It was a beautiful day, she looked outwards towards the city. They city looked brand new. New buildings, new roads, new gardens. Only hints of the Reapers' carnage remained, evenly placed throughout the city were various cairns and stones of remembrance with the names and faces of those who'd died here. The streets were bursting with life. The young faces she saw were vibrant, free. Freed from the genocidal oppression of the Reapers. Birthrates in the past 50 years had increased tenfold. Demographers were forecasting the asari would be back to their pre-war numbers in two centuries. _Two centuries to undo the damage done in two months._

"Dr. T'soni?" A voice called out from behind her. Liara spun around quickly, her hand reaching for her holstered sidearm. An asari faced her, wearing a business suit that looked a century out of fashion. She looked familiar. It took a few seconds before Liara remembered her. Security footage from Illium when Cass had first arrived with Cerberus. She'd spoken a few short words to Cass before vanishing. Liara relaxed her hand. The woman was unarmed and her posture was friendly.

"Yes." Liara answered, waving her hand towards the vacant seat in front of her.

"I am van Drusen. I thank you for meeting me on such short notice." She said.

Liara nodded to her. She sat down, they faced another across the small, round table.

"Shall I get you something?" Liara asked.

The woman shook her head. "No, thank you. As I said, I bring an urgent message. It was intended for your bondmate, but you will have to do. I mean no offence."

Liara nodded. "None taken."

Van Drusen sat upright and her eyes glazed over to black. "You are the harmony of the song of forgiveness. You stopped those who sang the sour, oily song. We have sung harmoniously in peace. But someone has come. Someone is singing dark, discordant songs that clash with ours. Their dark, dissonant songs would clash with everyone's songs until the only song is theirs."

"Who are you fighting?" Liara asked.

"Theirs is an old song, dark and cold. It's a song we've never heard before, scales and notes unknown to us. "

"Where are you?" Liara asked, doing her best to properly interpret the Rachni's emissary.

"When the dissonance ended we retreated to a quiet place. A place our mother guided the one who's song was harmonious to yours. There we sing a grand symphony. Our song was overheard. They seek to silence our song. And silence the song of others. Now that the grey, oily song is sung no more, they wish their music to triumph. Please help us."

"I will help you." Liara said. "But how?"

"Send someone who will let us sing, and fight against those who would silence us."

"I will send my daughter." Liara said instinctively, without thinking it through. Van Drusen's eyes became normal again. She shook her head slightly.

"Thank you." She said gratefully. "We will send someone to meet her. Please, hurry." Liara nodded, her mind racing. Van Drusen stood and left. Liara couldn't send her daughter in alone. Few returned from the Mu relay, although that had little to do with the Rachni. She wouldn't send Aisha alone. Agent Carmen had his own elite squad and was stationed nearby. The problem was Aisha. She wouldn't take kindly to this request. By now she was aware she'd negotiated with Aria T'loak. That wouldn't improve her mood. She couldn't contact her directly, no, for it to work it would have to come from the Council.

She hastily left the cafe and quickly made her way to the spaceport. She had to be back home to do this. She couldn't run through the terminal fast enough. Even express service at spaceports took too long. She was curt with the customs agent who scanned her. She had her own shuttle, did she really need to go through the futile security screenings like everyone else?

"Liara T'soni?" A voice called out for her. At first she didn't hear it over the dim of ambient space port noise. It repeated a few times before she heard it for real, becoming louder each time. She turned towards the source. When she saw who it was Liara's heart stopped beating for the tiniest fraction of a second. She smiled ebulliently and blushed. It was Isolda. Isolda made her way towards her. She was one of the most beautiful women Liara had ever seen, rivalling even her late wife. Isolda was roughly two centuries older than her though she looked younger, her face was oval, cheeks littered with light blue splotches, her eyes were grey, almost silver. She wore a full length, sparkling blue dress. She walked with grace and assertiveness, her eyes beheld an intoxicating mix of strength and vulnerability.

"Isolda?" Liara said, almost gasping for breath as the older asari walked towards her. The distance between them was only a few feet, but Liara felt like an electric storm filled the space between them. She was unable to resist smiling, relaxing in front of her. "What...are you..." She stumbled and chastised herself. No, that's not what she should say. "It's nice to see you...again." She said, though her voice was still undercut by nervousness. She hadn't felt this way in over a hundred years, not since...

"It's nice to see you too." Isolda said, smiling a brilliant, relaxing smile. Her eyes looked upon her with infinite kindness and genuine joy. "I thought you'd forgotten about me?"

"Goddess, no. I could never forget about you. You're so...Oh, I'm sorry, but I've been very busy lately."

Isolda nodded, as if absolving Liara from any sin or misdeed. "What brings you to Thessia? I hear you don't travel very often."

"No, I don't. I came here to...meet an old friend...over tea." Liara said uneasily, looking down suddenly, as if to make sure her feet were still touching the floor. She didn't notice but she was playing with her wedding ring almost violently, spinning it, tugging on it.

"Well, my request still stands." Isolda said, adopting a salesman's tone of voice. "My readers would be most interested in an exclusive interview with you. I got a lot of responses to my review of your latest concert."

"Yes, I'd very much like to do that." Liara said, feeling sweaty and lightheaded. Why? there was no reason to. It was just an interview request. Wasn't it?

"When would you like to meet?" Isolda asked, opening her Omni-Tool to her calendar.

"How about tomorrow morning?" Liara asked then chided herself. She was making herself look foolish, too eager to please. She had several hours work ahead of her.

"How about 800 hours? At the Loo-Loo? I hear the food and atmosphere's quite nice now." Isolda suggested, nonplussed by Liara's apparent eagerness to meet with her.

Liara nodded, smiling, her smile felt inadequate, childish. Isolda returned her smile. They looked upon another and Liara felt like a deer in the headlights underneath those brilliant eyes. She wanted to look away but couldn't turn herself away from her brilliant eyes.

"Good, I'll see you tomorrow." Isolda said and smiled one last time. She turned and walked towards another terminal. Liara watched her walk away. Not once did Isolda turn around. Liara stood long after Isolda had vanished from sight. All around her people were moving like currents of water, moving around a stationary rock. Though she was standing in place, she wasn't immobile. Her fingers were still playing with her wedding ring.

* * *

Liara had difficulty focusing on her work when she arrived home. It wasn't like her. She had phenomenal abilities to compartmentalize. For years she carried on as Shadow Broker while caring for her slowly disintegrating bondmate. But it was hard to push the personal thoughts away now. She had to arrange for a commando squad to meet Aisha at the Mu relay and then she to leak the information about the Rachni to the Council. She also had to catch up on her datafeeds.

As best she could, she set to work. Contacting Carmen was easy, he vowed his squad would meet her at the Mu Relay before she went through. It took some time to find a suitable agent to contact Irissa. It took almost an hour to contact him, but as soon as she did, she knew the Council would have the data within minutes. She couldn't contact anyone on the Council directly, not unless the situation was extremely dire. It was always best to maintain her distance and to use her formidable reserves of agents, contacts and intermediaries. Then she came to a difficult part of her task. Contacting her daughter to let her know about agent Carmen. She didn't want to speak to her directly, it would lead to another argument but neither could she leave the information in a coldly worded email. So she recorded a brief video message.

Then she checked her datafeeds. The first thing she read was Aisha's report and the record of their video conference. She was flabbergasted. Van Drusen hadn't said or hinted nothing about Despoina. Could they have lied to her? Or was something else at work? She had to know more. She sent an email to Van Drusen, hoping she would contact her. She hoped she hadn't sent her daughter into the gaping mouth of a trap. After a few hours of searching the narrowest strands of information for any possibility of solving the mystery, exhaustion overshadowed her anxiety. She fell asleep the instant her head hit the pillow. For the first time since her death, Liara forgot to say goodnight to Cassandra.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey everyone. I apologize for not posting sooner but my hard drive died on Thursday. I lost some data, including a story I'd just started working on and this chapter so that's why I'm late. I guess backing up your data biweekly isn't enough. Sorry it's a bit short. Otherwise I'm back on schedule. Hope you enjoy this next installment.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

* * *

Aisha was in a good mood. She'd hung out with the batarian bookie, he told her his name was Bob but she doubted that. They drank booze, watched the fights and recounted some stories, though Aisha was very careful about which stories she told. Bob fancied her, that much was obvious, but Aisha dropped enough subtle hints that this wasn't reciprocal and he picked up on them, eventually. Even though they'd had a good time, she found batarians unnerving. Their four black lidless eyes were like looking into a walking, talking abyss. And this was without her father's complicated history with them.

She walked into the ship, the airlock doors closing behind her, with a bounce in her step. She found Orkney hanging out outside the cockpit, showing Skye his newest rifle. He was looking upon it fondly, caressing the new rifle with a cloth with loving tenderness. She knew that look in his eyes all too well, a look of amorous affection.

"Got yourself a new toy?"Aisha asked.

"This is a special custom Black Widow. Ultra-light carbon materials, scope with 5,000 meters magnification, also has night, thermal and ultraviolet sighting modes, the butt is made with 100% mahogany and is compatible with all ammo types."

"Sounds like you're in love. You baptise it?" Aisha asked, knowing he had already.

"Yes. Bessie, meet Aisha. Aisha, meet Bessie." Orkney introduced them. Aisha waved to Bessie, as if she were greeting a person for the first time.

"Nice to meet you Bessie. I think I'll leave you two alone, I wouldn't want to get in the way of your honeymoon." Aisha teased.

"What can I say? I like to share my bed with loved ones." He playfully retorted, pressing his head against the barrel. Orkney wasn't kidding about sharing his bed with his rifles. Aisha chuckled and turned to Skye.

"This one also wishes to inform you you've received two high priority messages." Skye told her.

"Thanks, Skye. I'm going to engage the QEC. I need you to run a tracking program, to find out where the signal's going."

Skye blinked several colours, indicating he would do as ordered. Aisha went to the rear of the conn where the QEC device was. It was small, not like the ones she'd seen in frigates and dreadnoughts. It was tucked into a nook in the only transmitted and received the face of the person, to save on energy and bandwidth. Before she warmed it up she checked her inbox. Her first message was from the Council. She opened it immediately, Irissa's image appeared.

"Operative Shepard. We have some new developments to relay regarding your mission. We've received word that the Rachni are requesting assistance. This cry for help may be a ruse or it may be genuine. You are hereby ordered to journey through the Mu relay. The Rachni are expecting you. Assume their intentions are benign but do not be caught off guard. Assess the situation and act appropriately. You will keep us informed of any developments. It is also suggested you request additional assistance. Your cruiser wouldn't have survived an attack by the ship depicted in the Bayeux's logs and few have journeyed through the relay and returned. Ultimately the decision remains yours. The Council wishes you the best of luck, Operative. Irissa out."

Irissa's image vanished and was replaced by a blank screen. She switched to her inbox to the second high priority message. _Of , I knew you were behind this._ She sighed heavily, looking at the readout. Should she watch the message or ignore it? She had to make it on her own; she'd never accepted handouts, why should she start now? This ship had advantages, speed, agility, stealth, superior offensive firepower and defensive systems. She ignored the message from her mother and inputted the frequency given to her by Aria.

"Skye, I'm sending it now. Do whatever you can to trace it." She ordered.

There was the harsh hiss of static for several seconds then it was replaced by silence. The QEC viewer was black, showing no message. This would be an audio-only conversation, not that Aisha had expected to see who she'd be talking to.

"This is Operative Lattinen calling Wolf Pack. Lattinen calling Wolf Pack."

"This is Wolf Pack." A distorted voice answered. Despite the digital manipulation the tone carried a heavy weight of arrogance and impatience.

"Am I talking to Romulus or Remus?" She asked.

"Yes." Was the simple, enigmatic reply. She detected a faint tone of condescension.

"What can you tell me about Despoina?" She asked, ignoring the reply and pressing on. She had no time for games.

"I suggest you consult an encyclopedia." The voice answered back dryly.

"That's not what I'm talking about. How did you find out about the terraforming operation? Who hired you? What happened there?" She asked, trying to sound forceful and aggressive.

"The first two items are confidential and reflects a per-conceived bias. What is to say we were hired? Do you perceive us incapable of acting on our own initiative? As to the latter matter, we are conducting an internal inquiry and are treating the matter with utmost seriousness." Aisha felt like she was speaking to a customer service representative, not the leader of a feared mercenary army. Her muscular tone went unremarked, dismissed if it was acknowledged at all.

"You have to answer." Aisha insisted. She winced, knowing how childish and impotent she sounded.

"No, we do not. We do not recognize the Alliance or the Council's authority over us. The Alliance is handicapped by inefficient, corrupt bureaucracy and the Council has dithered and fumbled in its clumsy attempts to assert its flaccid authority in the Terminus systems. There are other methods to rule, more efficient but that is besides the point. That we have agreed to speak to you is a testament to our relationship with Ms.T'loak. We will not provide you the information you require nor is there any exchange that we can foresee doing so. We wish you no ill will, but be warned that any collision of interests will have disastrous consequences. Your attempts to trace this transmission are futile. This transmission ends now, Operative _Shepard."_

The transmission ended with only the hiss of static. Aisha cursed loudly. She turned around to Skye, several feet away. His head titled downward and shook slightly. They couldn't trace it, but they had a record of the conversation. They could learn much from the record. But the conversation galled her. The unsubtle mocking, the nonplussed way they spoke with her. She'd get them for this. If it took her two hundred years, she would find them.

"Skye, run the voice analysis software. We might be able to undo the voice masking and come up with a psychological profile based on his speech patterns. That's a start. Orkney, take us out of here and through the Mu relay. Things are about to get interesting."

"Just the way I like 'em." Orkney said, leaning his precious new rifle on the wall and stepping into the cockpit. The ship lightly hummed and vibrated as the engines were brought online. Aisha walked away from the QEC, the message from her mother unopened.

* * *

Liara fidgeted terribly in her chair, she toyed with her wedding ring. Her eyes kept glancing between the clock on the wall and the front doors of the Loo-Loo. The restaurant had a calming atmosphere, cloaked in light blue and white paint scheme, artificial rainfalls were in each corner of the rectangular dining hall, calming music subtly coursed through the speakers. Even the furniture was relaxing, chairs and tables were round and oval with no hard edges, a complete absence of square and rectangular shapes. This calming atmosphere was no affecting her in the least. She glanced at the clock on the wall one more time. Isolda was five minutes late. Of course she'd been waiting for half an hour, showing up when the restaurant opened, despite it being only a few minutes flight time from her home. _It's just another interview, that's all._

The doors opened suddenly. Liara looked straight ahead and bolted out of her chair, she'd picked this table precisely because it looked onto the entrance. The twin doors allowed bright sunlight to wash in; the figure that appeared in the doorway gave the effect of being an angel descended from the heavens. She walked in and it was Isolda. Liara waved to her and called her name, almost desperately, despite them being only a few meters apart. Isolda smiled and walked gracefully towards her. She was wearing a one piece dress, green andand dark blue, it emphasized the brilliance of her eyes.

"I'm so sorry for being late." Isolda said softly as she sat down. Even the banal manner in which she pulled the chair back and sat down beheld a bewitching elegance and she sat down Liara noticed she wore a bond bracelet that was laced with black lettering. It was the same kind of bond bracelet she'd worn for almost a decade now. "My navigation software crashed. I knew I should've taken that left turn at Albuquerque."

Liara laughed hysterically, instinctively. It took her a few moments to recognize the reference. Yetdespite the sadness associated with it, she still laughed. Isolda's eye's brightened.

"You know Looney Tones?" She asked. Liara nodded eagerly. "Goddess, I've been saying that for over a hundred years and I finally meet someone who gets it. I once told that joke to a salarian, and he thought Albuquerque was an obscure nebula somewhere, and demanded to know from which orientation you had to turn left to!"

The two continued to laugh and it died down as a waitress appeared. Isolda ordered coffee whereas Liara ordered tea.

"Again, I'm sorry for being late. I hope you weren't waiting long."

"No, not at all. I just arrived minutes before you did, actually." Liara lied pleasantly.

"Thanks again for meeting me. Now, I want our interview to be different from all the other ones you've done."Isolda said, leaning forward subtly.

_It's already pretty different already._"How so?"Liara asked. A waitress arrived with their drinks. Liara stirred her tea with a spoon, her hand trembled ever so slightly. She nervously put the spoon down after noticing this, even though she liked her tea strong.

"Well, I don't want to ask you about your musical influences or aspirations or any of the standard questions you've been asked. There's tons of that out there. My viewers want something different and unique." Isolda said after sipping from her coffee.

"Meaning?"Liara asked neutrally. Normally she would be alarmed at the direction this conversation might be heading, but she felt relaxed, at ease in Isolda's presence.

"I got a lot of responses from my review of your concert. My viewers and I want to know about the real LiaraT'soni."Isolda said, smiling slightly, as if she were slightly embarrassed to tread down such a path.

"You mean, personal questions." Liara said, despite the dreaded nature of the topic she found herself smiling.

"Yes. Despite all that's written about you, few have anything to say other than you're intelligent, talented and very kind. You've lived through interesting times, we would love to hear your perspective on events. We know your late bondmate's perspective, the universe should know yours. It was your research that unearthed the plans for the Crucible, you helped her track Saren. She showered you with much praise in her autobiography. "

Deep within her, a warning bell rang within Liara. She'd never talked about such things. Her personal life was just that. She didn't want to be hounded like a vacuous celebrity by the paparazzi. She was still young, the time for such reflection was later. But the warning was pushed back by Isolda's disarming smile and manner, the way her stomach felt lighter in her presence, this felt so surreal. There was also the discovery that people were genuinely interested in her. For over a hundred years she'd lived in her bondmate's shadow. She wasn't Doctor LiaraT'soni, she was Cassandra Shepard's wife or bondmate. Liara had no bitterness about this. She wasn't vain and never craved the spotlight. Truth be told, she was happy she wasn't subject to the same scrutiny that Cassandra had been. It weighed so heavily on her, on their family. Yet there was something alluring knowing there were people interested in her. It tickled her pride.

"Very well."Liara found herself assenting. "But on condition I have final approval on what is or isn't broadcast."

"Agreed."Liara was surprised she agreed so quickly. Most reporters fought hard for editorial control. To cede it so quickly, without objecting in the least was odd. Or perhaps, it was a genuine reflection of how strongly Isolda wanted to do a story on her. It disarmed her; she wasn't a malicious tabloid scribe. A reporter with a viewership genuinely interested in made herself a mental note to do a background check. Despite how charming she was, Liara was still cautious at heart.

"So, how do we go about this?" Liara asked as the waitress arrived to take their orders. Both women laughed when they realized neither hadn't so much as glanced at the menu yet. They asked the waitress to come back in a few minutes.

"I was hoping we could do this naturally by spending time together, talking… like friends." Isolda said tentatively, her eyes flickered.

"Yes, I'd quite like that." Liara said, trying not to sound too eager. But they couldn't spend the entire day together, she had so much work to do but she could adjust her schedule. _What am I getting myself into?_

"That's settled then." Isolda said with a bright smile. Her Omni-Tool activated as she browsed the menu. "What are you in the mood for? I quite like the sound of redberry pancakes with chocolate sauce!" Isolda's face light up in an anticipatory smile. That was exactly what Liara was in the mood for.

"Me too!"Liara exclaimed, smiling shyly at her new friend. Just what would this lead to? She had no idea, but she was looking forward to finding out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

* * *

The computer hadn't finished its analysis yet. She'd forgotten about the message from her mother. Well, forgotten wasn't the right word. She'd chosen to continue ignoring it. It wasn't going to contain anything important, or at least anything she wanted to be party to.

She used the several hours' journey from Omega to the Mu relay to focus on her father's reports on Noveria and Uttuku. Both times she'd saved the rachni from extinction; a lesser soul would've consigned them to oblivion. She'd been heavily criticized for these actions, but they'd paid off. The Crucible couldn't have been built without the Rachni, Rachni drones gave an 800% boost in productivity to the construction of the famed device which was barely completed in time. She read through diaries and conversation logs from the workers on that project. The Rachni communicated amongst themselves telepathically and with other species they spoke through touch. They spoke using musical metaphors and analogies, as if this was how they conceived language and thought. She wasn't much for music but she found this profound and moving. How many ways of communication were unknown or unknowable to her fellow beings, reliant on sight and sound?

Seeing her father so young struck her. It wasn't just her youthful appearance but how almost carefree she seemed. Her expression was still grim and serious but there was no tightness in her jaw, no lines around her eyes. There was almost no weariness in her posture, in her speech compared to how she remembered her. Did she have even an inkling of how serious things would become? How the next few years would push her to the very brink of her limits, almost to the breaking point? Did she know she would become the saviour of organic life in the galaxy?

The Reapers took a heavy interest in the Rachni, speculation was abound that Sovereign's manipulation instigated the Rachni wars. The Reapers used the Rachni to manufacture devastating weapons during the war. That nothing had been heard of them since the end of the war was perhaps a sign that they were peaceful in nature. Perhaps the retreat was a sign of shame. But why had so few returned from the Mu relay? The system that housed the relay was heavily littered with Limbo Planets, planets that had once hosted thriving colonies but were now little more than piles of ash and rubble, waiting vainly for new colonists to land upon their shores. More than a few of these planets were homes to mercenaries and others of a sinister, clandestine nature. It could be the systems beyond were controlled by various militant groups, perhaps even the Wolf Pack itself. The Council lacked the strength and the will to re-explore these systems in force. It was still dealing with terrorism from the remnants of the batarian hegemony, and its attempts to expand influence in the Terminus were an onerous burden with less than stellar results.

"Aisha, you better get up here and see this." Orkney piped through on the intercom.

"On my way." Aisha stood up and left her quarters. _What could it be? _She glanced at the clock on the wall. They had another hour before they'd reach the relay. Then roughly two hours before they would emerge on the other side. What would they find there?

"You have to see it to believe it. " Orkney said, a strong tenor of bewilderment in his voice. Aisha walked towards the cockpit, Skye was floating nearby. His skin was reflecting a dark grey colour, oscillating between various tones. He was scared. Aisha walked into the cockpit and froze when she looked out the canopy. In front of the relay was a gigantic ship, a dreadnought. But not just any dreadnought, it wasn't asari, turian, human, salarian or quarian. It was geth. There was no mistaking it for anything else. Still several thousand kilometres away but looming ominously.

"What the fuck?!" Aisha cursed. "I thought all the geth ships were destroyed or recycled."

"Maybe this one escaped the trash compactor. It wouldn't be the first time. It's not activated weapons but it's hailing us." Orkney said.

"Patch the transmission through." Aisha ordered.

"Repeat. This is Carmen hailing Operative Shepard. We have you on our sights, standing by to receive your transmission. Over."The voice was male, probably human, young but weathered.

Aisha closed her eyes and silently cursed. This must've been what mother had messaged her about. Trying to help her, protect her. As if she needed protection. Still they couldn't ignore that ship, the last thing she wanted was to antagonize a reactivated geth dreadnought. But there had to be a way out of this.

"Patch me in." She ordered. She heard a light beep and spoke to the dreadnought.

"This is Operative Lattinen reading you loud and clear. We do not require your assistance at this time."

Sitting ahead of her Orkney turned his head sharply in her direction. She knew what he was thinking, that she'd be mad to turn down the assistance of a powerful ship like this. But he didn't understand her fully. He might if she told him, but she couldn't risk spilling the secret she and her sister had sworn they'd take to their graves. Not even to two people with whom she trusted her life. That was another price she had to pay for being a Shepard. _May the Goddess __damn you, mother!_

"Negative. We have very specific orders to escort you through the Mu relay and anywhere else you roam until your mission is complete." The voice from the dreadnought said.

"Your help is… appreciated but we don't require it." Aisha insisted, trying to sound friendly.

"Listen, darlin'." The voice became less formal and more homely. "We ain't takin' no for an answer. The Shadow Broker gave us 1.5 billion reasons not to. What's on the other side of the relay isn't a family picnic. On your own, that little dingy of yours will get chewed up and spat out. However, if they see you in the company of a mighty fine, totally refurbished and organic geth dreadnought, the bad guys will be 'a scurryin'."

"Thanks but no thanks." Aisha answered more icily. She shut off the transmitter. "Orkney, get ready to engage stealth systems and get us around that ship and through the relay."

Orkney stared at her. "Why?" He asked with more than a hint of anger. "I don't like reanimated geth stuff anymore than you do. But we need their help. Nobody really knows what's on the other side of that relay. Don't be so headstrong, there's nothing wrong with accepting help. Where I come from refusing someone's offer of aid is a grave dishonour, regardless if you need their help or not."

Aisha looked down upon her turian pilot. "Lieutenant, carry out my orders now."

"So, its lieutenant now, is it? Fine, Capain." Orkney said coldly, turning in his seat, facing forward. His computer console activated and he inputted a few commands. The cold formality stung deeply but Aisha had no choice but to press on.

"Ready." He said robotically. "You sure you want to do this?" He added.

"Yes." Aisha replied impatiently. "Do it!"

"Fine." Orkney replied dejectedly, activating the stealth systems and manoeuvring the ship. He pitched the ship downward and yawed to the left. She felt a light touch on her shoulder, one of Skye's tentacles.

"It'll be okay." Aisha said, shrugging her shoulder and Skye removed the tentacle.

"Engaging stealth systems are we? Tryin' to get around us? Might as well teach a mule to read. We wanted to do this the easy way darlin'. I guess we'll have to do it the hard way. Don't blame me if your hull gets scratched up."

Fighter drones scrambled from the dreadnought. There were a hundred of them, small, only a dozen feet in width and length. They were shaped like clones, sleek-looking. Each drone had its sensors in the nose. Despite the cruiser's manoeuvres and stealth systems, it only took the drones a few minutes to find the cruiser. They painted the cruiser, uploading her data to the dreadnought's targeting systems. The cockpit flooded with the alarming sound of their targeting pings. Orkney swerved the cruiser violently.

"We have you painted on a heading of 231x431x155 with a speed of 50,525.5 km/s. How about we ditch the b.s. and get on with our mission? My drones can latch magnetically onto your hull and drag you into my flight deck. So, I'm gonna ask you again: Do you wanna do this the hard way, or the easy way?" The voice from the dreadnought asked the cruiser's crew.

"Activate the GARDIAN systems!" Aisha interjected. Nothing was going to get in way, even a reactivated Geth dreadnought.

"I'm putting a stop to this nonsense." Okrney said as he shut off the stealth systems and manoeuvred the cruiser to dock into the dreadnought's docking bay. The drones backed away and returned to their mothership. Aisha silently cursed, he was right and she was wrong. The realization hit her harshly, as did the humiliation of her futile attempt to flee.

"I'm sorry, Orks." She said softly.

"I wasn't aware we were on first name basis." He replied, turning his head in her direction. Aisha looked away, unable to meet his keen glance.

"Tell me, why is the Shadow Broker paying them one and a half billion creds to help us? That's not chump change." He asked sharply.

"I don't know." Aisha looked at the ground, it wasn't her most convincing performance.

"Aisha, what's going on?" Orkney asked.

"This one is equally concerned." Skye said next to her.

"I don't know." Aisha repeated her lie. She was lying to her closest friends. They were Bridgeburners, they thought nothing of risking their life for the other. Yet, she couldn't tell them this one fact. Feeling the eyes on her hurriedly walked away from the cockpit. She glanced at Skye in the corner of her eyes and saw by his purple tint that he was worried and concerned. Orkney and Skye shared a concerned look with another for several moments. Orkney sighed and turned his attention to the controls, locking onto the dreadnought's docking beacon. Despite the awe he felt at this massive ship he was docking with, he wasn't fully able to appreciate these feelings, a deep sense of worry and uneasiness were inescapable.

The cruiser fit easily within the rear docking bay of the dreadnought. A massive door closing behind them. The interior space resembled more a space station than an actual vessel. Orkney knew little about geth ship design, but he knew this ship had been heavily modified. Interior spaces were quite generous, wide winged turian ships could be easily accommodated in here. The lines were straight and symmetrical. There were six other ships docked inside, all human design. Four regular shuttles and two assault shuttles. This meant the ship also had ground troops stationed here, maybe as many as a hundred. He couldn't see any of the drones, they were undoubtedly housed elsewhere. This was an impressive ship, it could more than hold her own against any known fleet in the galaxy, even against whatever was beyond the Mu relay. This ship was most likely equipped with a stealth drive, but he couldn't imagine the crew would willingly take this ship anywhere close to quarian space.

He followed a beacon to landing bay 7, there were five other unoccupied landing bays. They had a reception waiting, about three people and a couple of ED-209 Mechs. He hoped they weren't active, few things were as unpleasant as a fully armed ED-209. It wasn't just their massive size, the twin railguns, missile batteries, 8 inch thick armour plating and strong shields. They were very nimble, having thrusters and small eezo reactors. Delta Consumer Products Inc. was concerned about the possibility of the mechs being defeated by a flight of stairs, the thrusters more than accomplished that.

The cruiser glided gently onto the pad, lowering the landing gear. A light bump indicated they'd landed. He shut off the engine and navigation systems. He hoped this meeting wasn't going to be tense. Hopefully they were in a forgiving mood, Aisha could rub people the wrong way. He was upset with her. Refusing these people's help and lying to him. How could she lie to him? How long had they fought and trained side by side? When she was conflicted about applying for Spectre status, he convinced her to go for it. He hoped this wasn't an indicator for future behavior, or success.

He hopped out of the flight chair. He was eager to stretch his legs and leave the ship, even if he was merely leaving the confines of this ship for the confines of another. Aisha was standing next to the airlock, waiting for it to depressurize. Her back was to him and she standing was ramrod straight, her feet tapping impatiently. Her sidearm was holstered. He looked at Skye. Ocular implants weren't yet compatible with turian physiology, yet even he could tell the hanar was worried. Neither he nor Skye were armed, he didn't want to antagonize their hosts anymore than they already had. Aisha, on the other hand, was less cautious.

"Maybe Skye and I should handle this." Orkney tentatively suggested as the airlock finished depressurizing.

"I'm fine." Aisha insisted resentfully. Orkney fought hard the urge to sigh.

The doors opened and they walked out, Aisha in the lead with Orkney and Skye behind and on either side of her. Their hosts were waiting for them a dozen feet beyond the ramp. There were three humans, all males. The lead human wore a ragged fedora that once upon a time was light brown or maybe burgundy in colour, a black armoured duster with more than a few holes and patches. His belt held two sidearms, a pistol and an SMG. Orkney tried to hide his smugness. SMGs were for people who couldn't aim. A smoking cigar sticking out of his mouth at an odd angle, his face was weathered and unshaven, dark hair snuck out from underneath his hat and his blue eyes stared keenly at them. He looked like a character straight out of a Leone western. The other humans wore more traditional green fatigues, though he didn't recognize the badges they wore.

"Well, it's always like this fellas, the chase is better than catch." He said. Orkney recognized the voice as the one speaking to them over the Comms.

"Now, are we going to have more shenanigans, or can we get down to business?" The man said as the trio closed the distance between them.

"I'm...sorry." Aisha said, her discomfort proof of her contriteness.

"Apology accepted. So long as you leave your little peashooters behind." The leader said, blowing cigar smoke as he spoke. The smell was unpleasant but had a strange charm to it. "My name's Manco. This fine fella on my right is O'Malley, on my left is Sarozov."

"Nice to meet you." Okrney said pleasantly as Aisha dropped her sidearm on the ground. The two humans nodded but said nothing. Their expressions were firmly unreadable. O'Malley was tall, almost seven feet, wide shouldered, his uniform almost straining with his muscular bulk. Sarozov was the opposite, short, nimble, agile looking.

"This is my pilot Orkney, and Skye."She said as she stood back up, her sidearm on the ground.

Manco looked at the hanar. "I hear you hanar are handy in a fight. Let's hope we don't find out just how handy." Then he looked at Orkney. "That was some nice flying I saw there."

Orkney nodded. "This is a fine ship. I'd love to hear the story behind it."

Manco nodded. "Maybe some other time. Right, so tell me Shepard, now that we're introduced, you care to tell me why the Shadow Broker's so interested in your mission?" Manco asked, staring keenly at Aisha.

"I don't know why the Broker's involved. But if you're willing to help I'm happy to have it. I... I thought you had hostile intentions. The Shadow Broker's not known for helping people." Aisha said awkwardly.

"Uh-huh." Manco said skeptically.

Aisha knew she hadn't convinced him and decided to press on. "Do you have a briefing room?"

"Follow us." Manco said, turning around and walking towards a hallway. She and her crew fell in behind him, O'Malley and Sarazov brought up the rear, keeping a close eye on them. The hallways were narrow but functional. She saw other crew members walking around. The crew was multi-species, but she didn't see any quarians. Regularly spaced throughout the ship were observation domes. She didn't doubt that this ship was fully stocked with internal drones and mechs. But this setup would leave them vulnerable to hacking. The downside of relying on automation. But Aisha had made the same trade-off and hadn't caused her any problems yet. Many archways were barred, walls erected where passageways once led. A ship this size was also vulnerable to being boarded, measures like these were designed to cut down on the paths intruders could take. She wondered if they'd installed windows.

As they walked on they heard a strange, intermittent clattering sound. The sound neared and became louder, as it did so was the sound of someone cursing and muttering. They rounded a corner and found a torn open bulkhead, covering panels on the ground as were thick coils of dusty electrical wires, strange looking components, a pair of human legs wearing an orange tracksuit sticking out of the hole.

"SON OF A WHORE-ASSED CUNT!" The female voice yelled in a thick Glaswegian brogue. The curse was quickly followed by the ping of metal hitting metal.

"Everything okay, Mac-D?" Manco said calmly.

"Of course it is, why wouldn't it be?" Mac-D replied casually, as if the previous outburst of profanity hadn't occurred. She still hadn't stepped into sight. A sound of twisting metal followed. "By Oppenheimer's beard! Who the fuck decided to link the catalytic converter with the manifolds from the manoeuvring thrusters?"

"You did." Manco said abruptly but not cruelly.

"And why did I do that?" Mac-D asked, a tone that was both curious and accusatory.

"Because we don't have any spare calipers." Manco said, oddly contrite. "But once we get this job done, you'll have all the spares you want."

"It's about fucking time. Jumping gigawatts," he said, using a soft 'g' to pronounce the word gigawatts. "You don't run a jury rigged ship like this without a whole lotta fucking spares." Mac-D replied, still fiddling about, deeply immersed in the bulkhead.

"You might wanna watch your language, we have guests." Manco said, clearly not very concerned about the impression his engineer was having on their guests.

"Are any of them engineers?" She asked.

"No." Aisha answered apologetically.

"Well then fuck off! I got work to do. I'm about to go Motherwell rules on this power coupling." She shot back. Aisha looked at Skye, clearly the profane engineer was having an effect on the hanar. He was very uncomfortable. He still wasn't comfortable with profanity and rudeness. And if two years with Sergeant Emery hadn't acclimatized him, nothing ever would.

"Folks, this fine lass is Sheila MacDougal. Mac-D for short. You won't find a better engineer anywhere."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere." Mac-D shot back. "But proper spares will!"

Manco chuckled. "Are we good to go?"

"Another couple hours and I'll have this tub ready to rock and roll until it breaks down again."

Manco nodded to his escorts and they left their company. Manco led them down a few more turns and corridors before leading them into a room. This was a multipurpose room with QEC device and a holographic interface that could display any dozens of types of data from vid feeds to galactic maps. This was perfect, exactly what she needed. It was roomy, unlike the rest of the ship's hallways which were tight and cramped. Manco nodded to her. Aisha walked to the front of the room where the devices were. The opposite ends of the room had three rows of seating. Manco sat down in the middle row, stretching out and placing his legs on the seats in front of him. Skye remained floating near the chairs and Orkney sat down. Aisha activated her Omni-Tool.

"Four days ago, a secret Alliance Terraforming operation in the Psi-Tophet system was attacked..." Aisha began her briefing, detailing what they'd found there, the dead, the Bayeux's logs. She moved on with her data about the Rachni, her brief contact with the Wolf Pack. Manco listened intently though his expression was unchanging, he barely chewed on his cigar when she mentioned talking to the Wolf Pack. She looked at him directly when she finished.

"You're running voice analysis software on that conversation?" He asked.

She nodded. "Still needs another hour or so before it's finished."

"Not too many people have spoken to Romulus or Remus and lived to tell about it." Manco said.

"You know anything about them?" Aisha asked.

"Word is they're brothers." Manco answered. "It'll be interesting to see what data that software comes up with. I'd bet you could make a lot of money selling that data. A lot of enemies too." Manco said.

"I'm not afraid of them." Aisha said with false bravado.

Manco chuckled, cigar smoke bursting out of his mouth. "You should be. They're not your typical merc army. The Alliance is scared shitless of them. You wanna know why not too many people return from the Mu relay? It's because the Wolf Pack controls about two systems and they don't want anyone to know what they're up to. They have patrol ships stationed around every relay. You don't have a good reason to be there, they start shootin'. In the Terminus they've taken over a bunch of Limbo planets and turned them into training and manufacturing bases. All the refineries, resources and mines that we're abandoned, they've taken over. The only combat doctrine they have is to be flexible and relentless. They're not interested in beings gun for hire for much longer. No, they want something bigger. They take in soldiers from every race, break them down and build them back up again. They stop being salarian or krogan or whatever and become Wolf Pack. No other merc army's done that."

"What else can you tell me about the systems beyond the Mu relay?" Aisha asked, registering what Manco told her on a tactical level, but not on an emotional one.

Manco puffed on his cigar several times before answering. "There's rumours there's something goin' on. Stuff that's not Wolf Pack. Strange blips on ladar that appear than disappear, ships passing near the asteroid fields in the Pangaea Expanse have their sensors go haywire. Sensors pick up something that looks like weapons fire. When they send ships to check it out, they find nothing there. I've heard there's a Wolf Pack dreadnought that just vanished without a damn trace."

"Do you think it's the Rachni?" Aisha asked.

Manco shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But if I were in New Reno, I'd bet on it being something else. It's a big fucking galaxy out there, and we don't have a clue what's in most of it. Who knows what else is out there? What's to say all the Reapers were really killed off? What's to say there isn't some ancient species that's been sleeping all these years, waiting for the right time to wake up and start causing a ruckus?"

Aisha nodded. "Thanks Manco, we really appreciated this."

"I'm glad we did this the easy way. We have ourselves a few hours, why don't you treat yourselves? We got ourselves some fine amenities: a zero gravity gym, pool, bar, entertainment room, comfortable beds, proper showers and a mech that gives massages." Manco said.

"Do you have a shooting range?" Orkney asked, not bothering to mask the eagerness in his voice. It wasn't just eagerness to shoot something, but an eagerness to get away from Aisha.

Manco nodded. "It just so happens we do. If you're feelin' up for a competition, you might want to give Sarozov a ring. He's the best damn shot I've ever seen."

"We'll see what Bessie says about that." Orkney said confidently. Manco grinned. Orkney stood and filed out. Manco faced the hanar.

"I'm afraid we don't have any facilities designed for hanar. Is there anythin' we can get for ya?"

"This one is most pleased with your hospitality. This one will take advantage of the pool facilities to rehydrate."

Manco nodded. "Just let us know if we can be of any assistance. How about you, little blue?"

"I think I'll head to the bar." Aisha answered.

"A woman after my heart." Manco smiled wistfully. "Care for some company?"

"Okay." Aisha said reluctantly as they walked out of the briefing room, Orkney and Skye went their separate ways. She wanted some time alone but it seemed that wasn't in the cards. Manco didn't seem interested in her, the way most were. Or if he was, he was very good at hiding it. That much was a relief.

"You play pool?" Manco asked as he led her towards the bar.

"Never heard of it." Aisha admitted.

"Well, let's hope you're a quick learner." Manco said, chewing on the cigar some more. "Nobody on this ship can play worth a damn."

* * *

Liara awoke at the crack of dawn. She awoke with a bounce in her step. She said good morning to Cass in a cheerful mood, when she did her exercises she pushed herself, running a few miles more than normal, swimming further out. When she sat down at her workstation she did so with a bounce, she began playing background music, something she didn't normally do when working, preferring to focus on the work. But she felt different today. She played Vivaldi. She retrieved Isolda's records from various government ministries.

There wasn't much to Isolda T'lan. She was born on Thessia just over 300 years ago. She'd joined the asari military as soon as she was able. Pursued a degree in ancient history. Was bonded to a turian in the general staff. They had a daughter together. Both died on Palaven in the first hours of the Reaper War. She fought in the war, spending its entirety on Thessia. One of the few survivors from that time. Hadn't any other children or bondmates since. Started working as a reporter fifty years ago. She began in Illium reporting on countless shady dealings there. She'd antagonized more than a few powerful people there. After a few years she transferred to cultural reporting, a much safer line of work. Between the war and the reporting she was based at a mental health sanctuary, recovering. What horrible scars laced her mind? What terrible things had she witnessed? Liara's heart ached that such a gentle soul should know such terrible things. Her profile raised no obvious red flags. She didn't consider accessing the sanctuary's records beyond the admission and discharge dates. Isolda had a right to privacy and Liara had no right to violate that. The discharge date was striking, just a few days after Ferron's assassination. It was strange not knowing everything about someone she met, it felt oddly liberating. There was something almost exciting about it, journeying into the unknown.

She looked at the clock. She had another hour before she'd meet Isolda at the museum of natural history on Thessia. Time to get dressed and ready. She was looking forward to it. Cass hadn't shared her passion for history. But she never complained about being dragged to various museums in every obscure corner of the galaxy. Instead she talked about how cute she looked dodging from artifact to artifact, passionately expanding on every detail. It would be nice to go to a museum and have an actual conversation. She was feeling better about this every day, every hour. Maybe she was ready to move on, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

_It went like this:  
The buildings tumbled in on themselves  
Mothers clutching babies  
Picked through the rubble  
And pulled out their hair_

_The skyline was beautiful on fire_  
_All twisted metal stretching upwards_  
_Everything washed in a thin orange haze_

_I said, "Kiss me, you're beautiful -_  
_These are truly the last days"_  
_You grabbed my hand_  
_And we fell into it_  
_Like a daydream_  
_Or a fever_

_We woke up one morning and fell a little further down_  
_For sure it's the valley of death_  
_I open up my wallet_  
_And it's full of blood_

Godspeed You! Black Emperor-"Dead Flag Blues"

* * *

They were walking along the riverside. It was a pleasant boardwalk, bursting with life, walkers, runners, cyclists, friends and couples, lined with small stores and eateries. They'd spent 8 hours in the museum, having seen only a small portion of it, talking ceaselessly and laughing just as much. They'd tired of the museum and went for a walk along the riverfront. They'd finished eating ice cream and decided to sit down on the many benches that lined the riverfront. There were still a few hours of sunlight left. The river was equally packed, buzzing with canal boats, tour ships and sailing vessels. This was one of Thessia's grandest, and newest, tourist attractions. Liara saw individuals of every species walk by. They sat next to another on a bench, sitting close to the other, just inches shy of touching another. Liara felt this was very close in of itself, as if Isolda possessed a kind of eezo field that enhanced her presence, her aura.

"I've told you an awful lot about myself." Liara said with a bright smile. She'd told her about her youth, about some of her adventures. But hadn't gone too deeply. She was too cautious for that. "I don't like imbalances." She teased.

"I suppose I should tell you about myself." Isolda said quietly, almost tentatively. Liara then realized what a foolish mistake she'd made. She'd forgotten about Isolda's history, but then, she had to act ignorant. She spent so much time being Shadow Broker it was difficult to adjust to being herself. It was easier in the old days, it was easier when Cass was still alive.

"I was on Palaven when the Reapers came, I fled to Thessia, and then the Reapers came. And I stayed." Isolda said grimly.

"I'm sorry." Liara said. "I… it's rude of me to inquire about such things."

Isolda shook her head softly. "No, don't apologize. It's better for me to speak about such things, rather than holding them in. It only took me a few decades to learn that." Isolda smiled sadly.

"We were on Palaven, on leave, spending time together as a family. Due to his service with the general staff, we didn't spend much time together, but every day he made time in his schedule to speak to us. Sala was growing up so quickly, now an adolescent, as tall as many adults, well into her schooling. I gave her the best of his traits, self-discipline, work ethic, and his keen eyes. They loved another deeply, humans would say she was a daddy's girl." Isolda chuckled weakly, she looked straight ahead, not focusing on anything.

"We were walking through one of the parks in Palaven's capital when Arktauros received an urgent message on an Omni-Tool. He barely answered it when the skies darkened with these hulking, insecticidal monstrosities. I'd never seen any ship like that. My bondmate grabbed our hands and led us running, out of the park. For the first time, and not the last, I heard that dreadful ping, followed by the sounds of incalculable destruction and carnage. I didn't dare look behind me, as if looking would send one of those beams straight for us. There was chaos, and cries of panic, and anger. We ran 10 miles to the spaceport, the sky filling with ashes, seeing more and more debris on the ground, more and more dead."

"The spaceport was crawling with people desperately trying to get out. I saw a lot of turians, and all of them were trying to get to a military ship or installation. None of them were fleeing. A building next to the spaceport was hit, it tumbled down, landing on the southern half of the spaceport. I don't know how many people were crushed to death. The sounds were horrible, deafening. Still we kept running, all of us were out of breath but we kept running."

"Suddenly we were on a shuttle. I don't remember how we got there. I just remember being in a cramped shuttle with Sala. We didn't have enough room to sit down. There were every species in there, maybe 30 of us in a shuttle with capacity of half that. I don't remember saying goodbye to him, I don't remember if we kissed one last time, if he said goodbye to Sala..."

"The shuttle barely took off; it was struggling to get in the air because we were overloaded. We felt a massive explosion; the spaceport behind us was blown up. We didn't need windows to know that. The shuttle was rocked by the shockwave; we were thrown and tossed around inside, banging against each other, walls, the floor, the ceiling. Somehow the pilots kept us from crashing. By the grace of the Goddess we made it into space. The Reapers didn't pay attention to us. Maybe they didn't see us or maybe they didn't care. They would wipe us all out given time. I looked out the cockpit and I saw those abominable monstrosities, seemed like there were hundreds of them. The very sight of them chilled me. What were they? Where did they come from? Why were they doing this? What had the turians done to deserve this? They were so incomprehensible."

"We made it to Thessia, I tried to console Sala and helped some of the wounded. After one day I sent Sala to live with my parents and I reported to my regiment for duty. I said goodbye to her, confident we'd see another again. For a few weeks we did nothing, reinforced a few areas, stockpiled resources, but mostly we watched the news. That's how we knew it wasn't just the turians, but the humans and batarians also. It would only be a matter of time before they came for us; at least, that's what most in our military thought. The civilian leadership didn't agree. Or, most likely, they were in denial. That's when we started hearing about Cassandra Shepard, all the work she was doing. I knew vaguely of her before, I knew she was the first human Spectre, but that didn't impress too many people. But when the news reports flooded with what she did, fighting off that coup, spreading the cure to the genophage, getting the geth onboard, we felt hope, that we could win this war against annihilation."

"I don't remember saying goodbye to Arktauros. I spent days trying to reach him but I only heard static from Palavan. But I do remember the day the Reapers came to Thessia. It was sunny, the first days of spring. My unit was guarding a munitions depot, miles from the nearest city. Everything stopped suddenly. The wind stopped blowing, the birds stopped singing, animals stopped grazing and looked up to the sky. Dozens of those things were descending from the heavens, as if unfathomable demons had invaded the heavens and in turn invaded the mortal realm. A Reaper landed a few miles away and started making its way towards the nearest city, a few others landed right in the city. We assembled and made our way towards the city, abandoning our post to fight the Reapers."

"We were in the outskirts when we first saw them, their ground troops, husks, praetorians, bio-mechanical abominations. They shot our APC, shearing the armor off like it was nothing. Six of us died, the rest of us were wounded in some way. We set up a position and started fighting off wave after wave of them. They were relentless. We made radio contact with other units; we linked up and managed to form a stronger force. We headed for the city proper. We weren't acting on any orders from above; we simply fought and tried to save civilians."

"The sixth night we had a lull in the fighting. We were exhausted; our biotics were weak, almost useless. Our weapons were jamming and overheating more, running out of heat sinks. We had to scavenge what little we could find, which wasn't enough. We'd lost a lot of people, there were only five of us. Our peak strength had been ten times that. We found a hospital. We didn't see any activity, so we went inside. We thought we could rest, get some meds and food. The hospital was heavily damaged, only three floors were accessible, the rest were destroyed, but it was still standing and stable for the moment. "

"The first floor was empty. We sensed something was awry; a hospital should've been bursting with patients at the time it was attacked. But we found no bodies. Only debris and a foul stench that reeked of burnt skin and decaying flesh. Our sweep of the ground floor netted us some food, but it was growing stale. We made our way to the second floor. Parts of it were inaccessible. We found some medicines, precious few antibiotics, but we took what there was to take. The stench worsened, so much we couldn't block it out."

"We made our way up to the third floor. In the stairwell the stench increased even more, it was almost unbearable. We thought about retreating but we pressed on. Upon landing on the floor we knew something was amiss. The stench was overpowering, we felt the unmistakable vibrations of an eezo reactor running. We hunched and readied our weapons, activated our shields. It didn't take us long before we found Reaper forces, a few Praetorians. The fight lasted a few minutes. We lost one of our own before we killed the Praetorians."

"We went further in, deeper it seemed, to investigate what they were up to. We traced the energy signature of the reactor to the maternity ward. There… What we saw… I'll never forget. In the incubation room, where babies are placed post-partum, was a huge device using the reactor as a power source. The device was several feet wide and in length, lined with sinewy pipes and wiring. It resembled as much a machine as it did a living abomination. It was emitting this strange purple light from a black proboscis that glowed as if it were coated in some slimy substance. The light was pointing to the corner of the room. There… there was a morass of blue flesh, but not just any flesh. The flesh of hundreds of newborn asari melted down and fused to make the skin of a monstrous abomination, standing on four limbs made from asari babies, wielding four arms made from asari babies. The creature's head was but a massive hole, lined with the lidless eyes of asari babies like teeth. It emitted the most hideous sound when it 'saw' us. It made the cries of banshees sound like a baby's laughter."

"We fired upon it. Firing the last of our ammunition, using the last of our biotics. The thing exploded in a miasma morass of cybernetic flesh. The substance exploded all throughout the room, covering us .The electric guts stung my exposed flesh and I scratched my face, my arms, my legs to remove every trace of that foul substance. I feared my pores would absorb it and turn me into one of those abominations. I screamed and ran. I ran out of the hospital. I ran out of the city. I don't know if my teammates chased after me. But I just kept running. All I could think about was Sala. I had to save her from this fate. I kept running from street to street until I found a shuttle that was more or less flightworthy."

"I had to drag two bodies out of the shuttle before I could take off. I didn't think to say prayers of consecration. I just thought about Sala, about saving her. If I couldn't save her life, I could at least save her from being perverted into those monstrous mutations. So I ignored their open wounds were dripping with blood and oozing with the pus from the eggs of carrion flies, I ignored their hideously broken limbs, the smell of their decaying flesh, even as my hands were covered with their blood and entrails."

"My parents lived on the outskirts of the capital. I couldn't raise them on the radio. But I listened to a lot of chatter. It was going very badly. I knew we were facing extinction. But I was so exhausted. I felt no anger, only sadness. I just wanted to be with Sala one last time, before the end."

"I arrived at my parent's home. The walls were littered with holes from weapons fire, smoke was slowly billowing from a small hole in the roof. My parents were former soldiers who kept weapons. I wasn't surprised they'd fought. I landed the shuttle next to the home. I didn't shut off the engines, I just ran inside, screaming Sala's name. I heard this horrible, high pitched screaming in response. It stopped me cold in my tracks. Emerging from the house was a banshee. It saw me and screamed again. I heard other, distant screams reply. This thing was calling others, alerting them to my presence. I still had my sidearm so I fired at it. It teleported, avoiding my bullets. I was too tired and slow to react to it, it grabbed me from behind. I felt its cold hands tear at me, as if it were trying to twist me like a corkscrew. It turned me around and I was face to face with this horrifying uncreation. I saw this thing's eyes… and there was no mistaking it, those were Sala's eyes staring back at me. They hadn't lost their colour. Only there was no recognition in those eyes. It might have been created from my dead daughter's flesh, but it was no more my daughter than a blade of grass was."

"With what little strength I had left, I created a singularity around us. It was weak, but it was enough that both us floated in the air, allowing me to fight free from its grasp. I landed on the ground roughly and ran back to my shuttle. The door closed behind me with a loud bang, I looked behind me and saw a sharply formed dent facing inwards. I scrambled towards the cockpit and took off; no doubt incinerating what little was left of my daughter beneath the shuttle's engines."

"I flew like I ran, without purpose, at topmost speed. The shuttle was too damaged to take it out of the atmosphere. Before long I was shot down, probably by Oculi, but I'm not sure. My shuttle crash landed in a farmer's field."

"I took shelter in the home. It was empty, the entire countryside was deserted. I heard distant echoes of destruction, the ping of the Reapers' beam weapons, thick smoke, black as pitch, rising from the horizon everywhere I looked, blotting out the sun. There was some water and food. I spent days in that house in a daze; I did little other than sleep and pray to the Goddess that my end would come swiftly. Nothing came. No other asari, reapers or animals. The entire countryside was on its deathbed, as life itself. One day I noticed the ground was shaking. I looked out the window and saw a Reaper Destroyer walking. I ran out of the house towards the Reaper. I screamed, shooting a few warp fields at it to get its attention. I succeeded eventually. It turned towards me. I jumped up and down, waving my arms, frantically screaming for it to kill me. The Reaper's cowling flaps opened, revealing the red beam. I stopped jumping and closed my eyes and stood still. I thanked the Goddess for granting me deliverance at last. Even though my eyes were closed I was aware of a bright red light. I waited for my end to come. The red light washed over and I felt nothing. For a moment I thought I was dead. But then I heard a loud grinding sound. I opened my eyes, the Reaper listed to its left and fall inert on the ground. And the next thing I knew, I awoke in a makeshift hospital."

"By the Goddess…" Liara exclaimed breathlessly. She had no idea Isolda's tale was so harrowing, so stirring. "I'm so sorry you went through all that." Liara tentatively reached out and placed her hand on Isolda's shoulder to comfort her.

"You don't need to apologize. If anything, I should be thanking you. If it wasn't for Cassandra Shepard, if it wasn't for you, none of us would be here." Isolda said, forcing a smile in Liara's direction. Liara discreetly returned her hand. She looked away, not seeing the flicker of disappointment in Isolda's eyes.

"So, tell me about your life after her retirement, so little was heard from you until she passed. Surely you spent a lot of time together, enjoying another's company, going on holidays together. That's the least you two deserved, peace and happiness." Isolda stated, eager to change the subject, no doubt her retirement years was a happier time.

"Yes, she didn't exactly receive it." Liara admitted, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I wish she would've retired a decade earlier."

"What do you mean?" Isolda looked at her inquisitively and worriedly.

Liara looked away, looking at the boats sailing to and fro on the Riviera. The wind was strong but warm, filling the sails fully. The ships flew gracefully and quickly on the water.

"I never told anyone this." Liara began tentatively, still looking away. "But Cass had dementia. I watched her being eaten away bit by bit, day by day. When she…passed, there wasn't much left of her. But… there was enough."

"How did it affect her?" Isolda asked, reaching across the divide between them and gently placing her hands atop Liara's. A tremor ran through Liara's body but she barely noticed it, she was so caught up in her recollections of Cassandra.

"At first it was cute, funny even." Liara began, still looking out on the Riviera, focusing on a trimaran which had several people lying on the deck, sunbathing. "She would forget she'd eaten a meal, she'd forget where she'd placed something. But, after a while, she would forget bigger things. She would be relaxing and then suddenly bolt upright; she would grab my arm and tell me we had to get to the Citadel to warn the Council about the Reapers. She would wake up the middle of the night, in the midst of her many nightmares, convinced she was reliving them. I would join our minds to restore her memories, it worked for a time but it became less effective, she would just as quickly forget what I restored to her. I hired nurses to help care for her, but she thought they were Cerberus or Reaper assassins and had me dismiss them." Tears were running freely down her face, but she continued to look away, continued to be unaware Isolda was holding her hands. "There… there were times she forgot our grandchildren's names."

"That's so… unfair, I'm so very sorry." Isolda said softly, her fingers gently massaging the top of Liara's hands.

"Fairness..."Liara mused on the word with something approaching bitterness. "Cass believed that nothing is ever accomplished without an equal or greater price being paid. She saved the galaxy, but lived with PTSD, depression and dementia, constantly living in fear of her life and the lives of her family. She wasn't happy about bearing these burdens, but she viewed it as a fair trade off, a small price to pay for all she accomplished… It might've been fair for her, but it wasn't fair for me, for our children, our grandchildren. Our grandchildren know her more through textbooks and vids than from any personal experience with her. Before she had her surgery she recorded vids for Aisha, in case she didn't survive, so our daughter would know her. She tried to hide it from me, but I knew she was making them. When she set off to join the Bridgeburners, not long after Cass died, I sent her a file of all the videos. I… I hope she's watched them but I doubt she has."

"I've lost so many." Liara exclaimed, removing one hand from Isolda's to wipe the tears away. Isolda didn't react, continuing to look upon Liara with wide open, sympathetic eyes. "I'm so tired of grieving. Almost every friend, almost everyone I've ever loved is dead. I don't want to grieve anymore! We're raised to take death philosophically. I've tried and I just can't be philosophical about losing Cass! "

She looked beside her, at Isolda, into her eyes. She too was crying. Liara realized Isolda's hands were touching her own. Without thinking Liara flipped her hands, their hands now palm against palm, their fingers entwining. They squeezed another's hands forcefully, as if cosmic winds were threatening to tear them apart.

"I don't want to grieve again. It hurts so much." Isolda said quietly, looking with quiet intensity.

Liara looked into Isolda's eyes and saw clearly. With Isolda she would never grieve again. She would never lose a loved one again. They could live long lives together; fill the emptiness gnawing away at her soul. She threw cautious away, without reflecting further Liara bent forward and pressed her lips against Isolda's. Liara kissed her urgently, feverishly, as if it would be the last thing she would ever do. Isolda kissed her with equal passion, their lips and hands moving together seamlessly. Liara felt like she was adrift on waves of passion, biotic flames stirring around them, surrounding them like a ring of fire. Their lips suddenly parted, Liara looked into Isolda's eyes and panicked.

"I'm sorry." Liara said, breathing heavily, "I…I…I…need…" She stammered, not knowing what she was trying to say. Isolda looked at her with concern. She reached for Liara but Liara stood up brusquely and ran away, heading for the spaceport, and home. Isolda sat alone of the bench for many hours, long after the sun had set, she remained, a forlorn and confused look upon her face.

* * *

_There is something painful in the first spring bud of life,  
it tears at the insides and claws at the doors of tenderness  
that riseth in black forms from an obsolete graveyard._

-Mourning Beloveth-"Narcissistic Funeral"

* * *

This chapter's structure is different in structure from the rest, I hope you don't mind. We'll get back to Aisha's shenanigans (and normal chapters) next week!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

Aisha was pleasantly surprised to find she was a natural at this game called pool. It was fairly simple, provided you had decent hand-eye coordination and a grasp of basic physics. She found it difficult to concentrate however, as Manco insisted on blaring loud, obnoxious music from the prodigious sound system in the entertainment room. There were a handful of people in here, all were off duty, some were lounging by the bar, others were playing another strange game called darts, a human and a salarian were playing an intense Kepesh-Yakshi match with entranced spectators. How they were able to focus with this atrocious noise blaring was lost on her.

In some ways, this resembled more a luxury yacht than a dreadnought. She watched them relax, and in truth they weren't truly relaxed, not like how civilians relaxed. A sliver of them was on guard, alert, waiting for a possible emergency.

Not for the first time she wondered about Manco's wealth and the origins of this ship. Where did he get this ship? How head a ship like this been hidden for over a century? Refitting and maintaining a ship this size couldn't be cheap, further costs in paying and feeding the crew, the mechs. They had to have a dry dock somewhere. Even in a vast galaxy, a ship like this stuck out. Their brief encounter with Mac-D indicated his assets weren't fully up to the task of funding this ship. She wondered if this ship was up to the task of combat. What if this ship were to break down in battle? He avoided most of her questions, admonishing her that he didn't discuss "business in the rec room."

"It's Opera." Manco exclaimed, waving his hands in time with the music. "Why do you think my codename's Carmen?"

Aisha shrugged, assuming Carmen was the name of some degenerate Opera. It sounded unmusical to her, the shrieking voices, and the strange instrumentation. She wondered how the rest of the crew tolerated it.

"Because its the greatest Opera ever written!"Manco exclaimed, reading her question on her face, punctuating his admiration by sinking two balls with his latest shot. Leaving only six balls left on the pool table. Aisha had no doubt she was going to lose this game. This was their seventh match, tied at three apiece.

"It's just a shitload of people screaming!" Aisha exclaimed, stabbing the butt end of her pool cue on the ground.

"The sweetest music there is." Manco said, leaning down he fired a bank shot with sunk another ball into the corner pocket. Aisha wasn't sure if that was an attempted pass or not. Judging by his focus on the table, she assumed he wasn't.

"Did you name your ship after an Opera too?" Aisha asked scornfully.

"Kinda." Manco replied, walking around the table, looking for the right angle to sink another ball. "Tarnhelm is the name of a magic helmet in Wagner's Ring cycle. It made the wearer invisible and gave them the ability to change shape. It's damn appropriate. A few years ago this think was just another derelict junk wreck floatin' in the ether. Now it's a more or less operational warship."

He knelt forward and lined for another shot. He fired and the ball sank into another pocket. Aisha had no illusions he would miss for what little was left of this game. Except for the first game, every game the person with the first shot had won the game, nary missing any shot. This entertainment room was unlike anything she'd seen on any warship. Any medium to large sized ship had its recreational facilities, but none had anything approaching this.

"I don't understand." Aisha confessed as Manco sank another ball.

"What?" Manco answered, pacing around the table, searching for the right angle to line up his next shot.

"Why you have this room here." Aisha said.

"Why not?" Manco answered. "This life isn't easy. People need all the comfort they can get."

"But if you give them the creature comforts, they'll become soft and sloppy." Aisha said.

Manco lined up a shot and sank another ball. Puffing on his cigar he answered. "You keep riding people hard, they're gonna burn out. You give 'em a chance to relax, to blow off some steam, they're sharper, longer. Look at you." Manco was lining up another shot. "Your wound up so tight you could crack nuts in that pretty fanny of yours." Aisha frowned at him. "And don't tell me because your asari you handle it better. You don't. We had us an asari a few years ago, a lot like you, so focused on the job she ignored everything else. Wouldn't hang out with the crew except in the gym or the shooting range. We got us in a firefight protecting a red sand cache and she snapped, got herself, and 10 of our crew killed. The cache got confiscated and I lost 10 million creds, and fair sliver of my otherwise sterlin' reputation." He looked away at a far wall, puffing several times on his cigar.

"She spent every single minute working or preparing for work. Never relaxed, never joked. It was all duty and discipline with her. Her life was all for nothing. No friends, no family. If I die tomorrow, I'll die knowing I lived life to its fullest. Made some friends, broke some hearts, made some mistakes, learned from others. It's not been perfect, but it's been enough." He turned around and looked at her.

"There's nothing wrong with relaxing and having fun. You only live once and life's too short to be miserable. That's as true for you as it is for me. Look at you, when you came aboard you were all grim and serious. But now, you're relaxed, that smile on your face tells me you're having fun. And when it comes time to do business, you'll be in better shape than if you hadn't." He said, returning to the pool table, in a swift motion sinking another ball. Aisha stared at the pool table, watching her chance at victory slip away.

"Life lessons from a human? What's next? Acrobatics lessons from an elcor?" Aisha shot scornfully.

"You don't have to be old to be wise." He said simply, sinking another ball. Aisha stood straight, taken aback by his statement. With only the eight ball left, a wry grin appeared on his face. Manco paced back and forth, pretending to line up a shot from one angle, only to back away and line up a shot from another angle.

Aisha stood upright, taken aback by his aphorism. _You don't have to be old to be wise._ She was barely an adult by asari standards, yet she was being arrogant, and this human, her own equivalent in age, said something of such simple profundity it moved her.

Manco lined up his next shot, only the eight ball was left. Aisha knew she was defeated. She'd have to wait until next game. His arm swung back, only instants before the cue would connect, sealing her fate. His Omni-Tool beeped. He stepped back, groaning angrily. He looked at the display and his demeanor went from playful to serious in the blink of an eye. He pressed a few buttons, activating the intercom.

"Right folks. ETA 30 minutes until we leave the relay. Everyone get to your stations and get ready for things to get hairy." He said simply.

The recroom quickly emptied, everyone filing out, their strides purposeful. The Kepesh-Yakshi game unfinished, glasses left half empty. Manco walked away, Aisha turned, about to follow, but then turned back towards the pool table. With a big grin, she leaned over and sank the eight ball, claiming victory in their game.

* * *

She ran to catch up to him. Aisha followed Manco as he led her towards the CIC. Aisha fiddled with her own Omni-Tool. Interfacing with her ship's computer she accessed the results of the voice analysis software. She opened up the report's synopsis:

_95.56% probability speaker was male. 80.34% probability speaker was human. 75.56% probability speaker is highly educated. Speech patterns detect speaker is under moderate amounts of stress. For in depth analysis, please click on the link at the bottom of the page._

It wasn't much, but it was a start. She instructed her computer to do a search for male human post secondary graduates with a criminal record. Most mercs weren't educated. She could ask her mother for the same, and get better results, but she had to do this on her own.

The CIC was huge, oval in shape with dozens of crew stations littered around the edges of the room. The stations were fairly standard, chairs with consoles and computer screens. Five of these workstations were manned, the rest were running on automatic mode. The front of the CIC had a huge view screen. She'd never seen such a device, no doubt it could display star maps and function as a QEC, but the base of the device was so large there had to be more to it. Although the odd architecture of this room looked geth, the rest looked entirely organic. The ship was geth in on the outside, but on the inside it was entirely organic. Not unlike Legion according to her father's tales.

She followed Manco to the centre of the room. A sizable railing with panels and consoles were standing, it wasn't too dissimilar from the setup in alliance and turian frigates. A blackened ashry was resting on the railing, filled with black cigar stubs. She stood next to him, not entirely sure what else to do. Manco walked up to the console and ran through the ship's systems.

"Mifune, activate the drones. Launch them as soon as we emerge. Activate the GARDIAN systems and batteries."

"Roger. What about the main gun?" The weapons officer to their left asked. She'd seen him playing darts earlier. Now he was all business and professional, strapped into his chair, his fingers dancing on the computer console, it almost seemed like two different people.

"Leave it off. We don't want to overload the reactor." Manco said.

"Just how operational is this ship?" Aisha asked quietly, noting Manco's answer. A dreadnought without an operative main gun was negating its biggest advantage. Without it this ship was nothing but a carrier, a carrier without a fleet to compensate for its vulnerabilities. Did mother know about this ship's difficulties? Probably, which meant she was helping her, but not excessively so. Even with this formidable ship escorting her, accomplishing her mission wouldn't be easy. It would still test her mettle. _Mother knows me too well._

"Operational enough. Getting a hundred year old geth equipment to work again isn't easy." Manco replied, puffing on his cigar. Asking him more would be futile. Aisha noticed the puffs of smoke increasing in frequency from Manco. Anxiety just as much as wisdom, isn't dependent on age. Aisha noted her own nervousness, the way she repeatedly clenched and unclenched her fists.

She looked to her right and saw a woman wearing on orange tracksuit. She had fiery red hair, shoulder length and straight, her face was marked by soot, grease stains and some freckles. Her tracksuit was positively filthy, some of the stains coloured in ways Aisha had never seen before. She had keen blue eyes; she was taller than Manco and moved with elegant grace that belied her coarse nature. Her eyes briefly met Aisha's before looking at Manco. Aisha felt a strange fluttering sensation in her stomach during that brief moment.

"Talk to me, Mac." Manco said.

"Long story or short?" She asked, sitting down in a workstation and strapping herself into the seat.

"You know me." Manco answered.

"Don't fire the main gun, and don't get us trapped in the soup for three days and we'll be fine." She answered, activating her computer console.

"Well done, darlin'." Manco answered. Manco turned to his right where Orkney appeared. Aisha noticed Manco was standing between them. She knew the reason Orkney wasn't standing next to her.

"Welcome back. How'd your shootin' go?" Manco asked, he turned to look in Sarozov's direction, who was sitting down in a workstation, ignoring Manco's question. He looked tense and wore a furious look on his face, his jaw so tightly wound no doubt his teeth were furiously grinding together. Aisha chuckled.

"You won?" Manco exclaimed, something approaching wonder in his stoic voice.

"Bessie and I won." Orkney answered, not hiding the pride he felt.

"That's the first time anyone's ever beat Sarozov on the range. Sure you don't wanna work for me?" Manco said.

Orkney shifted uncomfortably on his feet and said nothing, but his eyes betrayed the fact he wasn't dismissing the idea. Aisha cringed. She'd brought this on herself. She'd endangered their cohesion. She would have to talk to him later, but what could she tell him? Even though she trusted him deeply, there was just one secret she couldn't divulge to anyone, even him. Just one thing. She would freely tell him anything, except this one thing. _Damn you, mother_.

She looked behind them and saw Skye floating into the CIC. He lingered near a corner. She nodded to him, made an attempt at smiling at him, and he flashed a few colours. A polite greeting, more restrained than the greetings she normally received from him.

"Weapons are hot. Drones are ready." The weapons officer relayed. Manco activated the local star map. It showed nothing as they were still in FTL. Less than a minute before they would emerge from FTL into the undiscovered system from which few travellers returned. Aisha gripped the railing, even there was no need to.

"Right. Launch the drones as soon as we exit we relay. Electronics, get the jammers ready. We don't want the Red Pack to know about us." Manco's voice was calm but authoritative. She wondered where he was trained. He surely had some military background.

"Roger." The electronics officer answered back.

"This ship ever see combat?" Aisha whispered.

"Nope. There's a first time for everything." Manco whispered back, not a trace of worry in his voice.

The Tarnhelm emerged from the MU relay. It took a few seconds for the sensors to recover. Aisha looked at the star map ahead of her. The map zoomed in quickly. It showed three cruisers a few thousand kilometres away, on patrol. The cruisers were inspired by largely human design, but showed touches of every species. The sleekness of asari ships, the tough construction of turian ships, salarian defense systems. Even though the Tarnhelm's stealth systems were active, any ship coming through a mass relay emits a massive energy field, and a ship the Tarnhelm's size could be seen by looking out a window. The cruisers turned towards the intruding dreadnought at speed.

"Drones away." Mifune shouted.

"Jamming comms." The electronics warfare officer relayed. "They can't even talk to themselves."

"How's she handlin' so far?" Manco asked.

"Like a horse trader's mule." Mac-D answered back.

"Better than normal." Manco answered.

The drones scrambled, emerging from ports that covered the ship's hull. The drones formed four groups, each veering off on a different axis, making a dog leg pattern. The drones were controlled by four weapons officers, each group had a different purpose and tactic. The drones had some AI capabilities, but they were mainly guided by their organic masters. The cruisers, sensing their peril turned to flee, each in a different direction. The drones split into groups, following each of them, closing the distance until they would fire their missiles. The closer they were, the less time the ships could respond with evasive manoeuvres or countermeasures.

Manco looked at the map, the movements of the ships. Seeing the cruisers flee, knowing this engagement had to be over quickly to avoid any unexpected events. "Weapons Officer. Get the cannons to fire on these coordinates." He indicated a series of coordinates. within seconds the dreadnought's cannons opened fire. The fire herded the fleeing cruisers, making them bank or climb to avoid it's fire, slowing their flight, and thereby bringing them closer to the drones. Within a minute of the cannons firing, the first of the cruisers was in range of the drones. The drones each launched dozens of aspect-seeking missiles, designed to hone in on ladar signature, heat, even visual cues, no single counter measure could defeat them. The first cruiser manoeuvred wildly, it's guns firing just as madly to shoot down the countless incoming missiles but it was a futile effort. The missiles ripped into the ship's hull, detonating when they'd penetrated the hull. A great ball of flame was lit and just as quickly extinguished. The other two cruisers soon succumbed to the same fate.

"Mifune." Manco said with quiet authority. Aisha noted a high number of contacts from the last cruiser's debris field. Escape pods. A dozen of them. "Have the drones target the pods, then return home."

Mifune inputted the command wordlessly. Attacking life pods was forbidden by dozens of treaties and laws. Yet they could leave no trace of their arrival. They were still the enemy. Aisha swallowed deeply. She cringed when each small ladar blip vanished. Each signalling the ends of dozens of lives. Aisha looked around the CIC. There were no cries of joy or triumph, no smiles. These weren't your stereotypical mercs who signed up for love of bloodshed.

"Well done everyone." Manco said quietly, encouragingly but not boastfully. Little was left of his cigar other than the nub. "I want a post-op report in 30 minutes. Operative Sh-Lattinen," Manco turned towards her. "You say you're supposed to be contacted by the Rachni. Any idea how they'll do that?"

Aisha shook her head.

"Let's hope they find us then." Manco said.

A strange blip appeared on the ladar screen directly in front of them. It was small but rapidly grew in size. The ladar eventually revealed a ship of medium size, a ship shaped unlike anything either had ever seen. It was long, angular, elegant, in an age which had forsworn elegance for austerity. The ship moved and gesticulated, like an agile fish swimming amidst cosmic currents.

"Receiving a transmission." A comms officer said. "I...think it's asking permission to dock."

"Looks like they found us." Manco said, removing the spent cigar from his mouth. "Open up the docking bay. Let 'em in. Warm up a couple of the ED-209s just in case."

Manco left the CIC, with Aisha, Skye and Orkney in tow. Aisha was racked with anxiety. Was this a Rachni ship? What would they say? What should she say? She was about to be the first person to speak to the Rachni in over a hundred years. The first person to have real contact with them since her father. She felt prideful, she was entrusted with a sacred trust and duty.

They arrived in the dockinbay, the strange ship sliding up to one of the docking ports. It was coloured a dark tint of green, despite the way it moved it seemed to be assembled from one piece. The ship slid gracefully into one of the free docking ports. A walkway extended from the bay to the ship. Aisha and company waited at the base of the ramp. The ship flashed with yellow light. Rather than doors opening, a small portion of the ship dissolved suddenly, revealing a large insect walking slowly walking towards them. It was Rachni. No doubt.

Aisha was shocked she felt no unease as it walked towards them. She found insects alien and disturbing, yet she felt calm and at ease while the creature walked towards them. It was rather hideous in appearance, yet everyone else was calm as well. The Rachni drone stopped inches from their feet. One of the insect's forelimbs waved in front of each of them. Skye first, then Orkney, then Manco and finally Aisha herself. The limb stopped waving in front of her and then gently touched her shoulder. Aisha's mind was suddenly flooded by a calming droning sound, almost musical. After a few seconds this was replaced by a soothing voice.

"You are the harmony of the one who sang the Song of Forgiveness. The one who first sang that hallowed hymn has sung her coda. There are many dissonant passages in your song, though there is potential for the dissonance to resolve into harmony. You will assist us."

It wasn't a question , but Aisha nodded nonetheless. "How can we help you?" She asked aloud, speaking the question even though the Rachni was speaking directly to her mind.

"I will sing to you." The Rachni answered and within seconds it all became clear what was happening and why it was so important to help them.

* * *

Liara frantically pushed the cancel button for her incoming call. _By the grace of the Goddess, leave me alone!_ Every minute it seemed Isolda was calling her. Couldn't she just leave her in peace? Yesterday was a mistake. Clearly Isolda could understand that. She'd opened herself up, too quickly, too soon, to a journalist of all people! How yesterday's indiscretions weren't all over the extranet was clearly just a ruse by Isolda, to lure her into revealing more so she could publish some paparazzi hack job and give her site millions of hits. She'd been stupid, weak, silly, opening herself up to a complete stranger. _I'm the Shadow Broker! I can't just go out on dates and have a fun night out on the town!_ This has been a foolish exercise. She'd indulged her vanity and ego, and it had almost cost her. _No more._ She'd go back to being a introverted pianist and occasional archeologist by day and Shadow Broker by night. That was it. That was the best course for her.

Try as she might, she couldn't erase the sensuous joy of yesterday's outing. How at ease she felt talking and laughing with Isolda. How they'd discussed history together, she and Cass had never done that. The inferno that erupted within her when their lips touched and kissed. How, even though she was swearing off speaking to her again, she couldn't help but replay that moment in her mind. It rekindled strong feelings that had lied dormant, forgotten. She'd been restless ever since arriving home, nary sleeping and not being able to concentrate. She had to focus, to regain her discipline that had served her so well all her life.

She went to zero gravity gym. Zero gravity meditation would allow her to regain her focus. She was all too eager as she stepped into the beige coloured room. The surfaces of the square room had modules for every three dimensional sport from tennis to ozzymatill, an asari game that took full advantage of their species' strengths in biotics. Liara activated the controls using her Omni-Tool. An eezo reactor hummed and she lightly floated in the air. She spread herself out, loosening her muscles, letting her limbs float with the natural currents of the air. She closed her eyes and relaxed her breathing. _Make your mind as a void._

Despite her best attempts to clear her mind, she couldn't. She kept thinking about Isolda, their day together, their kiss. No. She couldn't. She had to clear it from her mind. She loved once and that would have to be enough. Many lived their entire lives without loving once. She should be happy about that. She should accept it and move on. Being Shadow Broker was too important to jeopardize.

Her Omni-Tool buzzed, interrupting her futile attempts at meditating.

"Not now, Glyph." She said angrily.

"Dr. T'soni, there as an incoming shuttle craft." Glyph replied, not knowing how much it was annoying her at the moment.

"Is it Mirry?" Liara asked, spending some time with her daughter and grandchildren would do her some good, the right tonic to get her to move on from Isolda and put her in a better frame of mind to resume her broker duties.

" I can verify the shuttle belongs to Isolda T'lan of Thessia News Network. There is one life sign aboard. Shall I allow passage or activate defense systems?"

"Let her land." Liara answered, she pivoted and pushed herself towards the gym door. She'd have to talk with Isolda, explain to her that they couldn't see each other anymore. She deserved to be told to her face after all. Liara didn't doubt her resolve as she deactivated the eezo generator and exited the gym. She walked purposefully towards the elevator that led onto the shuttle pad.

The elevator doors opened just as Isolda's shuttle landed. She saw Isolda through the canopy and her heart stopped beating. _Oh Goddess! _Liara's firm resolve fled like a thief in the night. Isolda scampered out of the shuttle, walking towards her with anxious strides. Liara heard each step, like a titan was marching towards her. Liara couldn't look at her, she had to look away.

"What's going on?" Isolda asked, her voice laced with equal parts concern and worry. Isolda reached up and grabbed Liara's hands. Liara couldn't push her away.

"I'm sorry," Liara said, looking to her side, trying to focus on the an aspect of her home, the beach, the sky, the trees, anything. Looking downward would mean looking at Isolda's feet, Isolda's hands holding her own. She couldn't do that. Her voice was frail, weak, betraying her inner turmoil and lack of conviction in her own words. "Yesterday, I... I...I...acted improperly. It would be best...if we don't...see each other anymore."

"Why?" Isolda asked. Her voice a storm of emotion. Liara could say nothing. She tried to back away but her feet weren't responding, like they'd suddenly become encased in concrete.

"Look at me, and tell me why." Isolda insisted.

Liara swallowed hard and found her gaze drifting forward. She found herself gazing into Isolda's emotion-filled eyes. Her convictions, her resolve wilted like a parched flower in a desert.

"I...I'm...s..." Liara stammered, she didn't know what she was trying to say.

Isolda's hands slid around her waist, their faces drifted closer and Liara either couldn't or wouldn't resist any longer. She didn't know. She put her arms around Isolda and pulled her close. They kissed with frenetic and passionate desperation. As ones who know all too well how fleeting true passion can be. Both of them glowed a deep shade of blue, the boitic waves emitting from both of them like billowing smoke, engulfing them, obscuring them from view, swallowing them as if they were falling into an abyss of passion and desire. They held another tightly, like castaways frantically grasping for detritus to keep them afloat. Before either of them realized, they found themselves in Liara's bedroom. They made love as if it would be the for the last time. For the first time in many long, bereaved years, Liara felt joy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

Aisha couldn't believe the information flooding her mind. It was all clear now. There was nothing lost in translation, nothing misinterpreted, nothing untranslatable. The gravity of it all hit her. This was incredibly serious, far more than she'd imagined a few days ago. This wasn't just a mission to prove her worth as a Spectre. The stakes were much higher now. They needed to act now. The Rachni drone touched Manco, Skye and Orkney, explaining everything to them. She was still processing the images, the sounds, no, the music, when Manco barked on his Omni-Tool.

"Take us to the Refuge system. Gimme an ETA." He made no effort to hide the sense of urgency.

"About ten hours." A voice answered back. Manco nodded and shut off his Omni-Tool. He looked at Aisha, his posture was more relaxed but his eyes werre hungry with a challenge in front of him.

"Looks like we got ourselves some downtime. How about we finish our game of pool?" He asked Aisha, his eyes looking keenly upon her.

Aisha smiled mischievously. "We finished it. I won. You conceded your shot. I sunk the eight ball. Therefore, I win."

Manco grinned and chewed on his cigar. "If you ain't cheatin' you ain't tryin'. I like that, nice to know you can fight dirty when the need arises."

Aisha wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or not, the confusion was plain on her face. Manco turned to the rachni drone and touched his hand to one of the creature's forelimbs. "You like music, huh? How about we listen to some tunes. I think we should start with the Nesun Dorma."

Aisha didn't know what the creature thought of that, but the drone followed Manco as they went off towards the rec room. It wasn't long before she heard various exclamations of surprise. She hoped the drone wouldn't interpret the music as a form of torture, though she'd be sympathetic to such a claim. She turned around and faced her crew, she knew she'd have to face the music of a different.

"We need to talk, Aisha." Orkney said plainly. Aisha nodded, she didn't need to see Skye's blinking to know he was in agreement.

"Just what's going on with you and the Shadow Broker?" Orkney said. There was no judgement in his voice, concern and curiosity were the main ingredients. There was no hint of admonishment. She couldn't keep their unit cohesive if she continued to lie and evade, but she'd sworn to take her mother's secret to her grave. For all of their many arguments, Aisha still loved her and wished no warm to come to her.

"We've had some dealings before." Aisha began, finding herself evasive, she saw the look of disgust begin to colour Orkney's keen eyes. The look felt like being stabbed with a spear. She looked around, saw they were alone. But maybe the docking bay was lined with listening devices.

"Let's head to our ship to talk about this." She suggested.

Orkney nodded, sensing the sensitivity of the subject. Aisha walked briskly to their cruiser, her two crewmates directly behind her. She stopped in the airlock, waiting for the exterior doors to close.

"I'm sorry, but...I know who the Shadow Broker is. I'm sworn to secrecy." Aisha said simply. She felt a strange sense of levity, a burden lifted from her shoulders.

The look in Orkney's eyes remained unchanged. "You couldn't share this with us before?"

"I never thought it would come up." Aisha said. This much was the unvarnished truth. She chided herself for still not being fully open and honest with them. Was it really that hard to say? She could trust them. She knew she could.

"This one postulates the one known as Shadow Broker is in fact your mother." Skye said suddenly. Aisha looked at him, the shock on her face as good as any verbal admission.

Orkney looked pensively at the hanar, and then he looked at Aisha. The look in his eyes softened somewhat. He nodded, connecting the same dots Skye had. Maybe Aria wasn't idly boasting when she'd said knowing the identity of the Shadow Broker was simply of matter of knowing the right facts. That was as true of her mother as it was previous Shadow Brokers. But what facts could lead someone to come to that conclusion?

"I get why you'd want this secret, but couldn't you trust us?" Orkney asked.

"You know things aren't great between mother and I. But I promised her and I keep my promises." Aisha explained. Orkney understood honour as well as any turian. Surely this would resonate with him. With Skye as well.

"Your secret's safe with us." Orkney nodded. "Now that that's out in the open, is there anything else?" He sounded like a parent of wavering patience dealing with a troublesome child.

"No, that's it." Aisha said, feeling drained, ashamed, she'd lied to her closest friends, fellow Bridgeburners.

"Okay, well, thanks for coming clean. I think Bessie and I have another appointment with Sarozov." Orkney said and quickly left the airlock. Skye trailed behind him. Both were eager to leave her company.

"I'm sorry." Aisha said to them, the turian warrior at the bottom of the walkway stopped in his tracks. He turned his head sideways, but wasn't looking at her.

"So am I." Orkney answered and continued on his way. Skye flashed a few vibrant colours, he shared how Orkney felt. When they left her view Aisha punched the bulkhead and cursed. She'd screwed up. Orkney was right. She could've told them at any time. They wouldn't betray her. Like her they would take the secret to their grave. She'd undermined the team's cohesion and trust over a minor matter. Would they forgive her, or would this be the first tremor leading to a cataclysmic break between them? She had to fight to regain their trust. She punched the bulkhead again, causing a deep dent to appear and her fists stung with pain.

"You okay in there?" A charming Glaswegian voice asked from the bottom of the ramp way. The voice startled Aisha out of her anguished contemplation. Below the ramp was Mac-D, still wearing the same old soiled orange jumpsuit, her face still lined with grease stains. Her eyes and hair seemed to glow all the more.

"I'm okay." Aisha said weakly, grateful for a distraction and feeling oddly nervous. Mac-D walked up the ramp.

"Permission to come aboard?" She asked at the airlock's threshold. Aisha nodded, chuckling at the sudden appearance of politeness.

"Would you like a tour?" Aisha asked.

Mac-D nodded. "You must be bloody fucking brave to fight around in this bucket, especially without an engineer."

Aisha opened the inner airlock door, deciding to ignore her backhanded compliment. "It's mostly automated, minimal number of moving parts ." Aisha explained.

"The more pipes you put in the plumbing, the easier it is to clog it up." Mac-D said, looking into the cockpit. Aisha didn't know what to say, the statement had a ring of truth to it, despite the analogy being false upon analysis. Mac- moved into the cockpit, she moved sleekly. Something about the way she moved caught Aisha's eye.

"Is that an Kassa Fabrication model 124 cockpit console?" Mac-D asked, her voice excited.

"Yes." Aisha answered, a prideful smile appearance on her face.

"How in the blazes did you get your hands on one of those?" Mac-D's excitement was obvious.

"If you go to Illium, there's a trader there who still makes them. If you want, I can refer you." Aisha offered, her pride tickled that someone would be so interested in her ship. That Orkney had acquired and installed it was secondary.

"Will you? That'd be fucking brilliant!" Mac-D smiled broadly, exposing a row of perfect white teeth. She gratefully tapped Aisha's arm and walked out of the cockpit, her eyes peeled to every detail of the ship's interior. Aisha felt a strange warmth when Mac had briefly touched her. She wasn't sure how to react.

"Where...are you from?" Aisha heard herself asking after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. Mac was kneeling down in front of a panel next to one of the workstations. Without asking Mac removed the panel and peered inside, sticking her head entirely in. Aisha had no idea what she was looking for. Mac retrieved an Omni-screwdriver from one of her pockets. It was a small device, cylindrical and the size of a large pen, yet every engineer worth their salt had one. A human many years ago tell her it reminded him of a sonic screwdriver, whatever that was.

"I'm from Glasgow." Mac answered.

"Is that... on Earth?" Aisha asked. Mac being prone on the ground gave Aisha plenty of time to look at her body. Aisha knew it was rude but she couldn't resist. She had to admit, Mac had an impressive figure, lithe yet strong.

"Aye. What kind of booster coils do you use?" Mac asked, her head still buried deep in the panel.

Aisha answered her.

"Ah, that explains everything." Mac said. Aisha heard strange scurrying, grinding sounds. She felt no anxiety or worry, Mac wasn't going to sabotage or damage her ship.

"Is Glasgow a nice place?" Aisha asked.

"Well, let's just say when the Reapers showed up and started making a mess, we just wondered what all the fuss was." Mac replied. Aisha could tell she was smiling.

"Sounds like paradise." Aisha answered back, matching her sarcastic tone and a smile appeared on her lips. Mac crawled back out of the panel opening. She placed the panel back in place and then stood up. Aisha looked at her curiously, Mac wore a proud, satisfied smile.

"There. I just increased your data transfer rate by 15%." She said and then explained how she'd done it.

"Thank you." Aisha said with a big smile. "But... why did you help? I didn't even ask. "

"Why not?" Mac shrugged her shoulders casually, her eyes scanning around the interior of the ship, her keen eyes alert for anything that would require her adept touch. After a few minutes Mac was satisfied.

"This is a nice ship you got, I like the job you've done with it." Mac said, walking towards the airlock. Aisha walked with her. Together they walked towards the Rachni ship. It was a strange design, the hull glowed a deep shade of green, it seemed gelatinous rather than solid. As they approached it they felt, rather than heard, a low rumbling, droning sound. They walked towards it like pilgrims approaching a holy relic. Aisha reached out and tentatively touched the ship's hull. Ripples emitted forth, like she was disturbing still water, it almost felt like her fingers were dipped in a warm liquid.

"Wow." Aisha whispered breathlessly. "Try it!" She urged her newfound human friend.

Mac did the same. Her face awash in wonder. It was unlike any sensation. Aisha realized it wasn't just touch, but her smell, hearing and even eyesight were affected by this contact. It was subtle but recognizable nonetheless. Both of them retrieved their fingers at the same instant, they'd somehow sensed the ship had enough. As if the contact were tiring it, somehow. Both looked upon the ship no longer as an instrument, but an actual, living being. They slowly backed away and turned around, as if in a trance. They started walking towards the recroom. The more they distanced themselves from the ship, the more their quasi hypnotic state decreased.

"Wanna go for a drink?" Aisha asked, the first thing on her mind.

"Aye. I'm off duty and I could do with some Scotch." Mac said. "You ever had Scotch before?"

Aisha shook her head.

"Looks like we'll have to change that." Mac said with a big smile. Aisha chuckled in response. She was looking forward to trying out Scotch, she couldn't explain why. Human liquor hadn't impressed her, they all seemed lacking in character like brandy or simply too harsh like vodka.

They stepped into the recroom and the mood was much different. Mac was standing by the music player, his arms wildly gesticulating in time to another horrid opera piece. The rachnni drone was bobbing it's head in time with the music. To Aisha's utter astonishment, it seemed to be enjoying it. At least a dozen other crewmembers were gathered, gazing either openly or covertly at the rachni drone. Some were taking pictures and videos with their Omni-Tools. Some approached it hesitantly, trying to pet the creature, which it didn't object to. A vid of a rachni drone enjoying human opera would be a huge hit on the extranet, even if most would think it a hoax.

Aisha followed Mac to the bar, they on stools next to the other. Aisha let Mac order their drinks. Mac reached into her breast pocket and removed two small devices and placed one in each ear. Aisha looked questioningly at her friend.

"They're earplugs." Mac explained. "Help keep the noise down. Would you like a pair?"

Aisha eagerly nodded. The mystery of how the crew tolerated the captain's unique taste in music answered for her. Was there some other piece of technology that could make the odour of his cigars tolerable as well? Mac searched in her breast pocket and retrieved two more earplugs. Aisha opened her hand and Mac placed earplugs in the palm of her hand. Their touch was brief but Aisha felt a brief electric shock shoot through her. She tried to act as if she hadn't felt it, casually removing the coating from their earplugs and placing them in her ear buds.

"Much better, eh?" Mac asked her with a warm smile. Aisha was surprised to hear Mac's voice so clearly, but quickly realized this earplugs had a transmitter embedded in them, making conversation easier. A bartender arrived with two doubles of Scotch. They toasted, their glasses making a muted 'clinking' sound, Aisha downed the strange spirit with no hesitation. The drink flooded her mouth and a satisfied smile appeared on her face. Mac smiled in turn, pleased she'd turned a new friend onto her favourite spirit.

"So, I gather your mum saved the Rachni?" Mac said, for the first time something approaching hesitance in her voice. Aisha tensed slightly.

"Well, my father actually but, yes, she did." Aisha drowned another sip. Mac waved at the bartender who arrived with a bottle and left it for them. Both were grateful for this. Mac took the bottle and refilled both of their glasses to the rim.

"How does it feel, seeing one now, knowing what your mu..., I mean your dad, did?" Mac asked. There was no malice in her question, only genuine curiosity. All her life she'd been peppered with questions about what it felt to be Shepard's daughter. Only those questions weren't really about her, they were about her father. No one cared what she thought or felt. And here was a question about her. Mac wasn't interested in asking the questions that were the bane of her existence. She wasn't curious about her father, she was curious about her. Aisha at first didn't know how to respond, her stock response of relying on cursing and deflection weren't appropriate.

"I feel..." Aisha began, unsure of how to describe what she felt. "I'm not sure how I feel." She said finally. "I know what she did, better than most, but I never felt a connection with it."

"Really? She saved the galaxy!" Mac exclaimed, her head tilted at an odd angle.

"She'd be the first to tell you she didn't do it on her own." Aisha said. She sipped some more Scotch. "I mean, I always heard about what she did, and I could see on the news or on a star map consequences of what she did, or have to read about it in school. Sometimes she'd tell me, but only if I asked and... some things she wouldn't go into details about. They were two different people, the father I knew, and the one everyone else knew. To everyone else she was a big hero, a wise leader, but I knew her like no one else. I knew the screams from the nightmares that tortured her. As I got older, I could even tell what kind of nightmare she'd had from the screams she made. I knew how she tried to spoil my sister and I. But because of her work, we didn't spend much time together. We always made plans and she had to cancel them. When I was younger I blamed her. I understand why now but I'm still... upset we didn't have more time together." Aisha said and promptly grabbed her nearly full glass of Scotch and downed the entire thing. Her body trembled slightly as the strong spirit coursed through her system.

"What about when she retired?" Mac asked her.

"It was... too late then." Aisha said quietly, staring into the distance after sipping some more Scotch. "I was out of my own, living my life. And then she got dementia. Then... I don't mean to sound cruel, but there wasn't much point in spending time with her then." Aisha said without malice, her voice reflecting only sadness.

Mac's eyes widened in surprised, and much sympathy. She reached out and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. Her touch was warm and comforting. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea." Aisha nodded kindly. She grabbed the bottle of Scotch and refilled both of their glasses. Her hand was wobbly, and she spilled some Scotch on the table.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but could we change the subject?" Aisha said. The last thing she wanted to feel now was crestfallen. She looked askew and saw the dartboard was unoccupied. Maybe she would be as good with darts as she was with pool.

"Could we play darts?" Aisha asked. Mac nodded and smiled, it was a smile wreathed in playful maliciousness.

"You might regret that. I am going to wipe the floor with you." Mac stood up, she hobbled slightly. "But first, I need to go to the loo. See ya in a bit." Mac drunkenly walked towards the washrooms. Aisha grabbed both glasses and the bottle and made her way towards the dartboard. She suddenly became aware of an acrid smell near her.

"You best be careful darlin'." Manco said, suddenly appearing next to her.

"Why's that?" Aisha asked, walking cautiously, not wanting spill either the glasses or the bottle.

"Mac-D's a ginger and you gotta watch out for them." He said.

"Why's that?" Aisha asked, puzzled.

"Gingers are soulless killing machines. They'll swallow your soul and then munch on your bones." He said.

"You mean she's an Ardat-Yakshi?" Aisha asked, turning to look at the human. Manco's cigar almost fell out of his mouth as he laughed. Aisha shot him a deathly glare. And then burst out into laughter. She laughed so hard she almost spilled the Scotch, but recovered in time. She walked the final few steps to the dartboard and placed the drinks on a nearby banister. Manco winked at her and returned to the jukebox, selecting another piece for the rachni drone's incomprehensible enjoyment. Mac returned from the washroom, and they began a perilous, drunken game of darts.

* * *

Liara awoke with a startled shake. For moment she wondered who this warm body sleeping next to her was. Then she remembered. How blissfully overwhelming it felt. And that feeling again. Joy. But it was wrong. It was all happening too fast. She needed to think. To reflect. To get an objective perspective. Carefully, gingerly she slid out of bed, venturing over to the closet to done a bathrobe. Isolda was still sleeping, her face, her body, completely devoid of tension. They hadn't fully joined their minds last night. Liara had blocked away anything relating to Cass and being Shadow Broker. Isolda had closed off a portion of her mind, undoubtedly relating to her deceased family and traumatic war memories. It wasn't uncommon for older-lived asari to close off certain memories from their partners. Whatever this was, whether a true bonding or something short termed, children weren't in their future so there was no problem.

Liara walked down the hall into her office. On the surface her office looked like any other with chairs, desks, cabinets and bookshelves lined with antique books, but this was a deception should she ever entertain guests or intruders. The latter was extremely unlikely owing to the myriad of security measures she'd installed. She keyed in a passcode on her Omni-Tool. A fully stocked bookshelf to her left parted, a secret doorway to her Shadow Broker office. She walked through the clandestine doorway, the bookshelf closing behind her. An elevator took her down three stories into the basement.

The doors opened and Liara walked into her Shadow Broker office. It was large, expansive with dozens of view screens and computer consoles. But it was cold, mechanical, utilitarian. There were no plants or artworks, nothing to distract her. She stood in front of the main console and started running through her data feeds. She was behind, a massive backlog of work. There was only so much a VI like Glyph could do. While she worked, leaking information here, hiding it there, brokering trades, keeping tabs on Aisha, she thought of Ferron again.

Finding his assassin had been easy, a sleeper agent, conditioned to be unaware he was an assassin, until the moment arrived. All these years later she'd come no closer to finding who was responsible. It was her greatest failure. She'd stepped away from being Broker. And then Ferron was killed. Together they could've foreseen it, stopped it. Now, decades later, she still didn't know who'd ordered it, there were always upstarts who wanted the vaunted position, but they were easy to deal with it and even easier to see coming. They knew his assassin had been mentally conditioned to find Ferron and kill him. The most effective assassin is one who doesn't know they are an assassin. But who had conditioned him? She wouldn't accept she'd never know, she'd find out eventually, even if the perpetrator was most likely dead at this point. She had few leads, none of them new, and they all lead to dead ends.

She kept working, going through her tasks she came at last to Isolda. She'd downloaded her profile and notes from the hospital. The firewalls had been easy to penetrate. She'd fought herself over it, finally surrendering to the temptation to download it. But she hadn't opened it. What right did she have to view such a document? Did she really need to know everything about everyone? Would she like Isolda prying into her darkest hours? Her finger hovered over the console. A simple touch would reveal all. Her finger hovered over the screen like the sword of Damocles.

Her eyes turned over to her internal security feed, the image lingered on Isolda sleeping peacefully in her bed. A bed that for the first time in ten years had known someone's shape other than her own. It was strange seeing another form there. She almost expected to see Cass again. What she would give to live with her again! She felt like Cassandra did in the days after the end of the Reaper war, dreading the call of duty yet being unable to turn away from it. Did she really need to be Shadow Broker? There was nothing in her life. Her music and family were the only surcease from this prison of responsibility. With Isolda, she felt alive again, she realized how joyless her life had been since Cass' death. She couldn't deny the strong feelings coursing through her veins, like she'd drunk an elixir now reinvigorating her entire body. She couldn't live her life a hermit. But she couldn't just let it go. It would create a terrible void, a void that would be filled by someone rash and ruthless.

Did she want a life with Isolda? It was impossible to say, their connection was intense but they hardly knew another. If she did, she couldn't hide being the Shadow Broker from her. Could she trust Isolda with such a secret? Or, should she simply abandon being Shadow Broker? Shut down her entire apparatus, and leave the galaxy to unfold without her? She knew how strongly tempted Cass had been by her playful suggestion, in the last hours before the assault on earth, to elope and leave the galaxy behind. That's how she felt now. With Isolda, she wouldn't feel the gnawing emptiness, the burden of bereavement ever again.

Isolda stirred on her view screen, it was almost dawn. Liara stood and left her Broker office, she didn't want Isolda to awake with her down here. It would cause awkward questions. She arose in the elevator, the morning light beginning to gently seep through the windows. She closed the bookshelf behind her, and walked back towards the bedroom.

Isolda was stirring, Liara slid into bed. Isolda smiled groggily at her, her eyes peeking at her like a sleepy cat. They embraced another, Liara almost sighed. She'd forgotten so much about being with someone, the simple pleasure of awaking next to a loved one, the loving touches and caresses, someone to kiss in the morning, someone to share a breakfast with.

"Good morning." Isolda said after a deep kiss.

"Good morning." Liara smiled brightly.

"You an early riser?" Isolda asked. Liara nodded, hiding the reason she was an early riser.

"Good that makes two of us." They kissed another again. Isolda held her close and they made love to start their morning.

Liara cooked breakfast for them. The first non-family member she'd done this for in a long time. She preferred not to think about the time Grunt and his brood stayed over, the mess took an entire month to clean up. While the redberry pancakes cooked, they chatted, casually, like old friends. When they finished Liara took her for a tour, both of them cradling cups of freshly brewed tea. They were walking through one of the hallways, lined with her late mother's artworks.

"I noticed you have some heavy security here. Is that because the Councillor was fearful of her security?" Isolda asked, looking at one of the dome cameras subtly nestled into the ceiling.

Liara nodded, though that wasn't the whole truth. _Can I base a relationship in a nest of half-truths, evasions and lies?_ She knew the answer. "Yes, I'm grateful they never needed to be used." Liara said.

"Why still keep them?" Isolda said, sipping from her cup of tea. Her eyes looked casually upon her, it eased Liara's concerns.

"Well, they're nice security features to have." Liara said, looking to an ancient asari fresco of a bird standing in a nest, feeding it's hatchlings. It was ancient, one of the oldest asari relics in existence.

"Surely the maintenance costs are significant." Isolda said.

"Not really." Liara said, stirring some batter into the cooking pot and placing a finished pancake into a plate on the warming tray. "In a way it reminds me of Cass."

"You miss her terribly." Isolda said, not a question. Liara meekly nodded. It was strange for Isolda to speak of her. It was stranger still to speak of her to Isolda. And they turned a corner and found themselves in the hallway lined with mementos of Cassandra's life and career. Liara noted that Isolda was recording, so she began explaining the history behind each item. Liara found it exhausting, fighting off tears, struggling to separate the items from the powerful emotions and memories associated with them. She stopped suddenly, Isolda no longer recording but holding her arm, her eyes full of tearful sympathy. They held another strongly, Liara embracing her like she'd embraced Cassandra so many times. _Do I tell her? How do I tell her?_

* * *

Sorry for the delay in publishing this, life got in the way and I had trouble with this chapter.


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